


Those Three Little Words

by Swanny_Writer



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Fluff, Golden Boy!Jun, He doesn't stay that way, Idk what happened, Let's tackle another cliche shall we, M/M, bad boy!wonwoo, i said i won't ever write in Jun's POV again, the bad boy/goodie-two-shoes trope, yes wonu is an ass initially
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-25
Updated: 2017-11-23
Packaged: 2018-12-06 23:07:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 76,992
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11610849
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Swanny_Writer/pseuds/Swanny_Writer
Summary: It starts out as a game: whoever falls first loses.But in the game of love and heartbreak, is there really a winner?Good boys shouldn't go for the bad seeds. Junhui knows that, and yet...(Or the one where WonHui make a bet to see who can make the other one say 'I Love You' first)





	1. Nice

**Author's Note:**

> *nervous wave* Hi guys... 
> 
> I'm really really sorry for being dead for the past two weeks. For the life of me, I couldn't finish any of the fics in my draft. So surprise surprise, this isn't finished either. But I thought I needed to post something so you know I'm at least still breathing and kicking.
> 
> Thank you JeanieRom for checking up on me.
> 
> Please be aware that this fic was written on impulse (so pls don't kill me bc it might suck really bad). Hopefully it won't deter you from reading the rest of my work, or worse, make you throw your phone out the window...

 

After having his toes crushed under a lead foot and his ass molested by yet another sweaty and most likely drunk jerk, Junhui is ready to cry and yell at Soonyoung that he wants to go home. Although that would prove to be extremely difficult seeing as his screams of disgruntlement would never be able to beat the cheers and yelling of the crowd around them, much less the power behind the amplifiers set on either side of the massive stage. 

When Soonyoung invited him to the concert, he had personally guaranteed that Junhui would have fun. Well, there wasn’t much enjoyment being squished between odorous and drunk college students screaming right by his ears about a band that Junhui had never even heard of. Not to mention the flashing lights that have probably caused permanent damage to his retinas, and the booming bass that pretty much made it impossible for him to even think without his temples throbbing. 

Moreover, it’s hot. And humid. It feels gross enough when your own sweat drenches your clothes and causes them to plaster against your skin. It’s a hundred times more disgusting when you’re surrounded by strangers, and their clammy skin sticks to you on all sides. All the more terrifying when one of them starts grinding on you. Over the past twenty minutes, Junhui’s already had to switch places multiple times with Jihoon and Seungkwan in order to escape. Thank goodness his friends were good people. Suppressing a whine, he dodges a flying elbow, pulling Hansol out of the way of the sloshing cup. He receives a grateful grin and a pat on the hand, which he tries to return, but doesn’t succeed very well. Junhui isn’t sure if the reason for the nausea is triggered by the smell of cheap beer mingled with pungent body spray, or if it’s the whole experience in combination with his pounding headache.

The distressed concert-goer blames Soonyoung for landing him in the middle of this sea of frenzied fans, because it’s always easier to blame someone else for your problems. But really, it’s all his own fault. First week at a new school, friendless, stressed and scared. He didn’t want to become bothersome and complain, even though this type of outing is so out of his comfort zone, he might as well be floating in outer space. Oh, what he wouldn’t give to be able to go back to his room right now, curl up with a book, where his toes are safe from strangers’ shoes and his ass from groping hands. 

But Soonyoung and the rest of them had been so nice to invite him along, he couldn’t say no without feeling guilty. There was also a large part of him that felt grateful for their consideration. Mostly, though, it was his roommate’s silver tongue that did the trick. 

_“Junnie, you gotta live a little! It’s just one night at an outdoor festival! Tomorrow, you can go back to your proud title of Apartment 1317’s Golden Boy.”_

Getting Kwon Soonyoung as a roommate has been both a blessing and a curse. A blessing because Soonyoung is the most friendly and helpful peer Junhui’s ever encountered. He’s managed to make Junhui feel welcome and at ease, showing him around campus, introducing him to his friends, giving genuine attention to Junhui’s thoughts and interests. On the flip side of the coin, Soonyoung tends to be very loud and persuasive, always ready for a party and dragging his friends along with him. In the end, Junhui had been powerless to Soonyoung’s cajolery. 

“Come on!” Soonyoung’s voice somehow makes it to Junhui’s eardrums now, followed by his clammy hand around his wrist. “Shinning Diamonds are up next! Let’s get a closer spot!”

Junhui’s protests wither before they make it out of his mouth as Hansol appears on his other side, and together with Soonyoung, start to manhandle him through the crowd. Fearless, his group of friends push and maneuver around the intoxicated students out of their way. Jihoon grips onto a corner of Seokmin’s shirt as the taller one follows Seungkwan’s aggressive lead. More of Junhui’s toes are sacrificed on the journey, but at least his ribs are safe from elbows. 

By the time they get to the front, Hansol is vibrating with excitement. His lopsided grin is infectious as he turns to Junhui and recites the band’s entire discography, hands flying in the air. Junhui smiles and nods, even though he only hears, “Check-In”, “Fronting,” and “Lotto.” At least, that’s what he thinks the boy is saying. In any case, if Hansol is this excited, maybe Soonyoung’s guarantee could still be valid. Junhui could let loose once in a while, enjoying the music and ignoring the unease squeezing his lungs and stomach.

No sooner has the thought crossed his mind that the lights on stage goes out, promptly drawing the audience’s attention. A thunderous roar erupts, when red spotlights flicker on. Junhui’s ears are ringing, but he tries not to wince lest he missed the entrance of the band that everyone but he knew about. Three figures, shrouded in the shadows and fog, slowly walk out as the music kicks in. 

It’s catchy, Junhui thinks with delight, the dancer in him catching the bug and moving along, swept up by the excitement around him. His movements are still quite reserved and stiff in comparison to Soonyoung’s or Hansol’s wild and carefree whoops and sways, but it’s enough to make Jihoon laugh. Spirits rising higher with glee, he directs his full attention to the stage. To be able to control the crowd so well with only three guys is an impressive feat, and Junhui attempts to get a better look at the performers. 

Their stage costumes are comprised of dark colors, leather, and chains, which throw off the light whenever they encounter a beam. Junhui is fascinated by the bad boy vibes, so different from what he’s used to seeing, especially on campus. He wonders how much of that is for show, and how much it is a reflection of the singers’ personalities. While they all portray a dangerous and sexy concept, one member in particular seems especially fitting. 

Tall, slender, pale skin, square jaw, dark and penetrating eyes. His hair is slicked back hastily by long fingers, ends dipped in sweat. It’s not only his incredibly good looks that capture the audience’s (including Junhui’s) attention. When he places the microphone over his lips, the low timber of his voice, amplified by thousands of watts, reverberates across the field. A shiver rushes over Junhui’s body despite the heat, and he’s mesmerized. 

In the midst of his daze, the member in question turns his head, and their eyes lock. The group of friends are standing close enough to the stage that there’s no doubt he’s looking right at Junhui. The mere realization makes the student's face burn up. Try as he might, though, he’s unable to break the piercing gaze. Something about the singer is pinning him in place, and it feels like he can see straight into his soul. 

Another shiver runs down his spine, and this time, the guy on stage smirks as if satisfied by Junhui’s reaction. His eyes actually twinkle as he moves the mic away from his mouth, corner still upturned. Junhui swallows, pressing a hand to his chest. Under the layers of muscles and bones, his heart thunders. Rhythm turning all the more erratic when his gaze follows the black leather jacket. Its owner moves at a fast pace to the singer with red silvery hair who's in the middle of the stage, laughing and waving his arms in the air to get the crowd to follow suit. Junhui only affords a quick glance to see that the third member—the tallest in a violet jacket—is entertaining the listeners with his rapping. Red-Silver Hair is a little shorter than Piercing Gaze; he removes one earpiece and leans closer, listening to whatever the other has to say. 

For unknown reasons, Junhui feels nervous. Heat surrounds him, and he feels like Soonyoung when the latter eats spicy foods. He licks his suddenly dry lips. The two gossiping members finish their conversation, and Red-Silver Hair casts a furtive glance toward this corner. Junhui’s stomach drops. They couldn’t have been talking about Junhui, right? _No way._

But to his horror, Red-Silver Hair grins knowingly and pats the second male's shoulder as if in dismissal, before striding across the stage, picking up his part of the song seamlessly. The perfect pitch and vocals are lost on the poor fan. Because Piercing Gaze is coming back. And he's standing right in front of Junhui. The gap between them is the perfect distance for their eyes to lock without effort. Junhui’s heartbeat picks up; blood rushes through his ears even louder than the music. He can no longer distinguish the bass from his own pounding heart. 

On stage, the brunet picks up his mic again as his part comes up. Junhui thinks he’s ready for it this time. But he’s not. He’s taken completely off-guard because the guy is singing right _at_ him, maintaining eye contact for the entire verse. This is too much for Junhui. The heat burning his face is going to consume him. There will be nothing left of him but a pile of ash. Is there anything worse for your health than an extremely good looking and talented guy serenading you in front of thousands of people?

In a word: yes. 

Because this song comes with choreography. Which includes body rolls and hip thrusts. _I am going to die_.  

The brunet shows no pity as he deliberately rolls his hips in the most obscene and suggestive way, causing the crowd around Junhui to screech and scream for more. Junhui just wants to hide behind his hands and curl up into a ball. That’s just wishful thinking, though, since his body refuses to obey. It stays frozen in place, watching the show that seems to be exclusively for him, heart threatening to burst out of his chest, breath catching in his throat. As the moves get even more sexy (something Junhui didn’t quite believe possible), he bites down on his lower lip, hard, to keep the whimpers from escaping. The chances that _anyone,_ much less the teasing jerk on stage, could hear him are zero to none, but it doesn’t stop the embarrassment from threatening to kill him. 

As if able to see exactly what’s racing through his target’s mind, the brunet’s smirk widens. There’s no doubt he’s enjoying watching Junhui squirm, which makes absolutely no sense. Why would the guy single him out, when there’s thousands of screaming fans? Can he somehow tell that this is Apartment 1317’s Golden Boy’s first time at a wild concert? 

The rest of the band’s set passes both in the blink of an eye and as slowly as a snail’s pace. Either way, Junhui isn’t sure his soul is still within his body when the trio bows and waves at the crowd. Especially when Piercing Gaze throws him one last look and that infuriating smirk, before turning around and running off backstage. 

“ _Whew!_ What a rush!” Hansol exclaims next to him, causing him to jump. Thankfully, the boy doesn’t notice. He’s too busy gushing about the songs. “What did you think? Did you like it? Which was your favorite?” 

“Uh.” Junhui scratches his head. “They were all really good,” he answers slowly, half shouting in order to be heard. It’s the truth, mostly. They sounded amazing, it’s just that he was too busy held captive by a pair of intense dark eyes to notice much else.

“Right right!” Hansol knocks into his arm, jostling him a little. “You’ve never heard them sing before. No worries, I got you covered, man,” he grins, holding his hand out for Junhui. The older meets his high-five, laughing softly at his enthusiasm. 

_Well, it’s over._ Junhui refuses to acknowledge whether he’s disappointed or relieved.

Around them, the crowd stirs. People like them earlier are trying to move to the front as their favorite performers are gearing up to appear. The boys attempt to move away from the center, a good chance to catch some fresh air, too. For the first time tonight, Junhui is grateful for the weather, since it conceals his blush perfectly.

He’s holding on to Hansol’s shoulders as the blond leads the way, when suddenly, something collides into his side, causing him and Hansol to stumble. The boys steady each other and turn to see what happened. Initially, Junhui only registers a mop of bright orange hair skirting his peripheral vision, before Soonyoung lets out a groan and gasp at the same time.

“What the fuck!” Jihoon’s bellow cuts through the immediate ruckus around, probably directed at whomever knocked into them. 

Seokmin and Seungkwan rush to help Soonyoung up, gripping one arm each. “Are you okay?” the elder asks. When Soonyoung mutters something, voice wet, they all pause. Their faces pale when the latter sways and holds a hand to his nose. 

“Shit!”

Junhui moves before his comprehension catches up. He swiftly fishes into his backpack for a pack of tissues, pulling a few out to press against Soonyoung’s nose. “Don’t tilt your head up,” he instructs, hand on his back. “Just keep the pressure on it.”

“We need to get out of the area,” Jihoon says, although he’s still glaring at the people around them. 

Slowly, the group navigates through the audience. But once they leave the empty circle that the commotion caused, the gap begins to close around them. What started out as a row of six friends soon dwindles down to a single file, with Seokmin at the front and Junhui bringing up the rear. They almost make it out, when the next performance takes the stage. A rush and clamor erupt as the masses swarm to the front. 

It only takes a second of distraction. A push, a shove, a spin. His name is called, an echo so insignificant among the screams and music. By the time Junhui finds his footing, his friends had disappeared. His head whips in all direction. The feeling of dread mounts as none of the faces he sees are the ones he desperately seeks. 

_Okay, just calm down. They can’t be far. Just get out of the crowd and call them._

As best as he can, Junhui maneuvers his way until he encounters the last people. At last, he stands at the far end of the field, breathing in fresh air. Away from the hot and sweaty bodies, he trembles slightly at the drop in temperature and the breeze blowing past. Even so, his eyes scan the surrounding in search of the bright orange hair. But there’s so many people milling about, he can’t spot the familiar group. The best and only solution is to try their phones. Unfortunately, life seems to hate him, because he can’t get through to any one of them. They probably aren’t even aware that their phones are going off, what with the noise and taking care of Soonyoung’s bloody nose.

Blowing out a breath and flicking his hair out of his eyes, he surveys the area for a noticeable spot that he can use as his location to text them. Once they’ve taken care of the injury, one of them ought to call him, right? _Let’s hope so_. With new determination, he sets off for the fence lining the field, texting the group chat as he goes. There’s a bathroom nearby, with any luck, his friends could be there.

Still no response. No friends anywhere in sight, either. Panic rises again. He’s restless as he paces along the fence, one hand clutching his phone, the other tugging at his bottom lip. He’s intently studying the view before him, searching for those mops of hair. He’s so distracted by the worry gnawing his insides at the thought of being left behind, that he doesn’t realize someone has snuck up behind him.

“You look lost, Pretty Boy.”

Junhui yelps and jumps a few inches in the air, whirling around. His eyes widen and his jaw drops as recognition settles in. Shock slowly subsides, but a different kind of nerves slithers in its place, making his skin tingle and his stomach quiver. If Junhui felt faint from staring at him a few feet away, now he’s lucky his knees haven’t collapsed yet. Piercing Gaze is so much more intimidating up close. The aura of dominance hangs around him like a cape, and all Junhui can do is back away slowly.

“Um,” he stammers, eyes darting around. “I’m just…” He’s staring at anything other than the tattoos around the exposed collarbones, the multiple chains and necklaces adorning the pristine pale neck. He doesn’t think about how the disheveled hair is inviting fingers to run through it. Most of all, though, he avoids those dark and intense eyes. The ones crinkled at the tips as their owner gazes at him openly with amusement. Junhui doesn’t dare look, but he can feel the stare, though. He senses it lingering over his face, sweeping over his entire body, a soft but heated caress. 

Junhui’s shoe hits the fence with a clang. He’s trapped. He backs up even further against the metal mesh, wincing at the coldness biting into his skin. The guy in front of him takes the final steps, putting them almost nose to nose. As naturally as breathing, the singer lifts his hand and hooks his fingers to the links on the side of Junhui’s head, grin still tugging the corner of his mouth. Junhui shrinks back, even though there’s not much room left. He swallows, focusing on the zipper of the leather jacket.

His lungs are burning, his throat his closing up. He tries to take in shallow breaths, but that only makes it worse. The faint smell of shampoo mixes in with a whiff of cologne and sweat. Instead of recoiling, his heart races as a result. _Why is his body reacting like this?_ Every internal alarm bell should be going off, telling him to run away as far as he can. That the guy, famous performer or not, is dangerous. Golden Boy Junhui should not get involved with anyone like him. He should not be alone with him, especially at night, out of view from the rest of the festival.

But his voice is like velvet, tempting and enticing. Poor Junhui is helpless to it. So he stays put as his captor cocks his head and offers another beguiling smile.

“Just what?” he whispers. “Did your friends ditch you?”

Dread shoots up Junhui’s spine, and he clutches the phone tighter as if the small device could be some kind of shield against this dangerously alluring man. Seeing him squirm seems to amuse the brunet if the crinkles around his eyes are any indication.

“N-no, I just lost them in the crowd,” Junhui manages to squeak out, risking a glance upward. “They’ll come get me soon."

A chuckle. Deep and rich. Junhui melts a little more. “They better be.” With his free hand, the musician reaches for a lock of hair that’s fallen over Junhui’s eyes, rubbing the silky purple strands between his thumb and forefinger. The action draws the lost boy out, coaxing him to meet the steady gaze. “It’s not prudent for a nice boy like you to be wandering out here alone.”

Junhui’s breath hitches with the implication of the words, yet somehow his brain manages to pick up on the vocabulary. _Who is this guy?_ Junhui swallows, attempting to find his voice, albeit it be tiny. “H-how so?” 

The brunet leans even closer, forcing Junhui to suck in a breath as their foreheads nearly come into contact. He can feel the heat radiating out, sense the overwhelming power immobilizing him. Warm fingertips graze over his cheekbone as the singer brushes his hair back into place, causing a shudder to wrack through Junhui and a pleased expression to cross the singer’s face. 

“Take a look around,” he suggests. "Do you see?" 

Blinking fast, Junhui tries to make his brain work. Striving to form a coherent sentence to answer the question. All he manages to accomplish is not faint. But he does take his eyes away for a few seconds to observe the surrounding. To his shock, he glimpses a few feet away a group of drunkards, loudly whistling and collapsing over each other as they try to chase after two girls. The creeps' laughter mixes with the beat of the current song, and it makes Junhui's skin crawl. Thankfully, the girls escape untouched, but the mass of potential delinquents are hooting at yet more passerby, all either walking alone or seemingly distracted. A lot like Junhui had been a couple minutes ago.

Fear shoots up his spine as realization strikes.  _So careless._

"You're lucky I found you before you ran into those sleazy bastards," the rapper states, pulling Junhui's attention back to him. The latter could only stare back in shock, heart still hammering at the thought of those guys finding him alone.

As if expecting his answer (or a lack of), a soft chuckle tumbles out of the singer’s mouth, and he inches back slightly. Junhui breathes out. 

The relief doesn’t last for long, though. Because his companion makes no further move to back away. In fact, he resumes his study of Junhui’s face, gaze sweeping over his features with agonizing slowness. It's like he's trying to understand why someone like Junhui is here, curiosity apparent. Their bodies are too close, though. One glimpse and Junhui recalls the way the guy had looked at him from the stage, how those hips and hands had moved while keeping Junhui within view. The poor student shakes his head to clear his mind from those scandalous thoughts, gripping his phone tighter as something to help him cope with the raw and foreign feeling coursing through his veins.

This time, the movement catches the musician’s attention. Once he glimpses up, he wonders, “You go to Pledis, Pretty Boy?”

Junhui unconsciously presses his thumb over the silver band around his pinky. Every student who manage to keep an above average GPA after their second year is awarded such a ring. He nods at the question. 

Out of curiosity, he throws a look at the hand by his shoulder, seeing a similar ring adorning the pale finger. 

Shock would not even begin to describe his feelings. _This_ guy, this guy with scary tattoos and domineering persona is also one of the top students at an elite private university? Junhui’s always known not to judge people based on appearance, but it’s a little hard not to on the rare occasions that he comes across the potentially dangerous bad boy type. 

While he’s grasping to come to terms with the new information, the guy appears to find Junhui's unrestrained emotions very entertaining as his grin widens and another little chuckle escapes. Junhui tells himself it’s not _that_ cute. There shouldn’t be _anything_ cute about him. Junhui should be terrified (which he is) and want to get away (which he doesn’t, if he’s completely honest with himself). 

“So we’re school mates, huh?” he muses, clearly delighted with the fact. Junhui’s stomach does summersaults. “Guess I’ll continue to look for you through crowds.”

“W-why would you do that?” he asks breathily, unable to imagine the reason. He still can’t believe where they are and what they’re doing right now.

The singer’s grin turns thoughtful as he toys with the purple strands again. “Why indeed…?” 

Junhui opens his mouth to speak, to say what he’s not sure, but the outcome will forever be a mystery, because his phone decides to go off at that moment. He startles from the sound cutting through the bubble separating them from the rest of the world. His companion chuckles at his expense, but it’s soft, and almost endearing. Junhui pretends not to be affected as he looks into his eyes, silently asking if it’s okay for him to get the call. A ridiculous notion, but something—no, everything about him is intimidating, and Junhui can’t help himself. 

Again, the singer gives him this indulgent look. It’s the same way he’d look at a young child or a beloved pet. Junhui’s not sure how he feels about that, but he tucks it away for now, because the guy nods at him to pick up, and Junhui presses the phone to his ear.

His companion doesn’t back away throughout the whole conversation. Not even when his friends run over and spot them together. He’s no longer smiling. In fact, his face seems to have turned completely blank, except for the intensity in his eyes when he gazes at the group of approaching boys. It’s almost… in challenge, daring them to come fetch what’s his. 

Junhui blinks, eyes flickering from the brunet inches from him to his friends’ shocked expressions. Hansol’s eyes are bulging, and his jaw is slack, while Jihoon glares back evenly, brows furrowed deep. Seungkwan and Seokmin openly gape. Only Soonyoung, now with tissues stuck up his nose, walks forward, breaching through the invisible barrier that their friends couldn’t cross. 

There’s a strange smile tugging the corners of Soonyoung’s mouth. It’s not quite unpleasant, but somewhat strained, and Junhui has a hard time deciphering its meaning. Until he opens his mouth and speaks, voice nasally, “Thanks for keeping him out of trouble, Wonwoo.”

Junhui’s eyes widen so much, they might fall out. 

Wonwoo laughs dryly, shaking his head. He turns back to Junhui, head cocked as that smirk appears again. “Stay safe, Pretty Boy. Don't wander off alone again,” he warns, fingers leaving Junhui’s hair to graze at his jaw before he pulls away completely. Then the heat enveloping him disappears, too, as Wonwoo steps back and leaves without another word. It’s not until then that he realizes how comforting that warmth was.

“Are you okay?” Seungkwan arrives at the fence, hand shaking his shoulder, voice a little shrill.

The appearance of his friends snaps him out of the daze, and he tears his eyes away from Wonwoo’s retreating back. “I’m fine,” he smiles, then turns to Soonyoung, “I should be asking you that.”

The injured boy waves it off, good mood returning immediately. “Healthy as a horse!”

“How did you end up out here with him?” Hansol asks in a hushed tone, as if Wonwoo has super hearing and could eavesdrop.

“He didn’t do anything to you, did he?” Seokmin adds in.

Junhui shakes his head, mind recalling the interaction. Sure, he was pushy and a little scary, but mostly—“He was nice.” 

Arching a brow, Seungkwan studies Junhui like he were crazy. “‘Nice’,” he repeats incredulously. “I don’t think anyone’s ever used the word ‘nice’ to describe Jeon Wonwoo.”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> EDIT: Hey guys, i'm not deleting this, so don't worry. Once i reach the end of what i already have written, the updates will come at a slower rate. Thank you for bearing with me!
> 
> Did you make it till the end? You are awesome, you deserve a thousand medals!!!
> 
> HERE'S THE THING: I have about 14K written for this fic so (it's not done), but i need you guys to tell me if I should even post the rest or delete the entire thing from existence. Please let me know, and I promise the next thing I post will be much better quality.
> 
> Thank you so much. (I don't deserve you guys... ╥﹏╥)


	2. Enigma

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Who is Jeon Wonwoo and what does he want???

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all the love! I seriously did not expect such a warm reception. You guys are so nice!!! *cries in rose quartz and serenity*
> 
> I'll try to update often, but I'm also supposed to work on a (not so) secret project at the same time, so there won't be a set schedule until THAT fic is done. But hurray for more fics! lol
> 
> I hope you'll continue to enjoy the story! *\\(^_^)/*

The train ride after the concert is both informative and embarrassing. Mostly embarrassing, though. In hindsight, Junhui should have feigned to possess a narcoleptic tendency. That’s one of the few perks of making new friends, right? The fact that they don’t know everything about you, yet. Unfortunately, he’s still reeling from the events prior to embarking on the train to think of an excuse to escape his friends’ questions and concerns. 

“So,” Soonyoung starts, clapping his hands on his thighs once. “What did you think of your first outdoor concert, Jun?”

Not wanting to hurt his roommate’s feelings, he skirts around an appropriate answer. There's no point in complaining about getting groped and having his toes crushed now. They're going home. “The music was very good,” he manages to say truthfully. “I feel really bad about your nose, though.”

“Nah,” the other laughs, nose free of tissues and blood stains now. “Don’t worry about it. That’ll just add to the experience!” 

Junhui smiles, grateful for the short pause. He hopes they’ll either take the opportunity to rest, or talk about the other artists. Or anything at all, actually, besides—

“Are we just going to ignore the elephant in the room?” Seungkwan wonders, head tilted to study everyone’s faces. 

_That._

“What elephant?” Seokmin wants to know.

“The Wonwoo-shaped one,” Jihoon provides with zero enthusiasm to be found from the row behind Junhui. 

Junhui plays with the zipper on his backpack. “There’s nothing to say, though,” he says quietly.

“Of course there is!” the younger insists. “It’s very fortunate that we arrived on the scene when we did.” Trying to distract him, Junhui hands him a water bottle. The trick does not work, much to the older’s dismay. “Who knows what could have happened if we were even a minute late?” The bottle is returned, and so do the comments. “You need to be more careful of your surroundings.”

Heaving a sigh, Junhui rests his head against the back of his seat. “I told you guys, I’m fine. He didn’t do anything untowardly. Besides, why would he try to kill a random fan who came to watch his show?”

The side-eye Seungkwan throws at him could cut steel. “That is not what I was talking about.”

“What then?”

“He means,” Hansol pipes up, looking away from his phone long enough to say, “Wonwoo would have saved you from becoming the real life forty-year old virgin.”

Blood rushes to his cheeks as his eyes widen in shock. He immediately presses his hands over his face, while the rest of the group burst into guffaws. The only consolation he gets is from the fact that the train is mostly empty, and Hansol had used his indoor voice. But he still swats the younger’s arm for good measure.

“There there,” Seokmin tries to be comforting as he pats Junhui’s shoulder, allowing the older to bury his red face into his chest. “It’s okay. We’re just teasing.” 

“I wasn’t, though!” Seungkwan retorts. He takes Junhui’s hand in his and squeezes it the same way a mother might do. “Junnie, you’re a good boy. You’re pretty and smart, and very kind. Which is exactly the sort of person someone like Jeon Wonwoo would want to corrupt.”

“Um…” Junhui wants to argue and defend Wonwoo, although he’s not sure why or with what. The only details he knows pertain to the guy’s school grades, and that he sort of saved Junhui from getting harassed from drunk creeps. Anything else is up in the air. “I think you guys are blowing this out of proportion, though,” he concludes sheepishly. 

“No,” Seungkwan frowns. “We’re looking out for you. Jeon Wonwoo is trouble! I know he can be appealing with the whole bad boy look,” here, he rolls his eyes, “but whatever! Don’t fall for it.”

“It's like that Taylor Swift song!" Seokmin interjects, then starts singing the first line. " _I knew you were trouble when you walked in._ " Laughing, he adds, "He may appear nice. But he’s not.”

A little lost, Junhui looks from one vocal major to the other. “But you guys went to his show.”

“So?”

“We’re a fan of the music, not the personality.”

Junhui chews on his lip, muttering, “I still think you guys are exaggerating. We hardly spoke to each other.” _They don’t need to know about the private show Wonwoo put on, seemingly especially for him._  

“I know you, Moon Junnie,” Seungkwan states as if they’ve been friends for years instead of a couple weeks. “I saw the way you looked at him.” Narrowing his eyes, he leans in close as if to tell a secret. “You were  _interested!_ ”

“What!” Junhui’s squeak makes the whole group laugh again, except Jihoon, who just rolls his eyes. “I was not!” 

Calming down from the fit, Hansol comments, “It’s like the whole opposite attracts thing. The good kid always falls for the troublemaker. Junnie Swift!” 

The comment makes his friends laugh once more, and  Junhui heaves a sigh in defeat and crosses his arms, pouting. There’s nothing, it seems, that he can say to make his friends stop with the teasing. It’s at that point, though, that Soonyoung finally adds to the discussion with words instead of laughter.

“Okay, I think that’s enough fun at Junnie’s expense.” His contribution earns a pout from the golden boy himself. Soonyoung grins unapologetically. “Wonwoo’s no gang leader or murderer, but let’s just say he’s earned his reputation as a troublemaker.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, last year, he p—” 

“Stop!” Seungkwan’s arm shoots out to clamp around Soonyoung’s mouth, then he points at Junhui. “See! You _are_  interested!”

A series of indignation sputters out of both the Gemini’s mouths, right before Soonyoung yanks his head away. “Gross! Your hand is all sweaty!”

“Just because I’m curious doesn’t mean I’m in love with him or anything,” Junhui counters weakly. 

“Anyway!” Soonyoung pulls the attention back to him before Seungkwan can comment on Junhui’s remark. “As I was saying, last year, the story goes that he punched some guy in the parking lot behind Revelle Hall, and then just walked away like nothing happened.”

Hansol jumps in again, waving his fingers like he's telling a scary ghost story, “They say you can still see the blood trail.”

“What a bunch of BS,” Jihoon mutters. “The guy got a broken nose at best. He didn’t gut him with a hook and leave him there to bleed out to death.”

Goofy smile still in place, the youngest of the group shrugs. “How would you know, though? You weren’t there.”

“Because I have a brain, dumbass. He’d have been expelled in a heartbeat.” 

“That’s not even the worse part, though,” Seokmin says. “Apparently, he hit him because the guy kept popping and smacking his gum in the library, while Wonwoo was trying to read.”

Junhui’s eyes widen. “That’s it?” Although, truth be told, he’s not sure what bewilders him most. The fact that Wonwoo punched a guy for disturbing his reading, or that he’s been reading in the library in the first place. 

“He warned him first,” Soonyoung provides. “Told him to stop or else. Dude didn’t listen. Stupid on his part, when Wonwoo’s like a black belt or something, I don’t know.” With a shrug, the takes the water bottle, drawing out big gulps.

From a young age, Junhui’s taken martial arts lessons, but aside from competitions and showcases, he’s never used those skills on people, even when they were rude. Hearing about someone resorting to violence for such a trivial matter is very disturbing and upsetting. How hot-tempered is this guy?

“Hey,” comes a nudge, prompting him to glance up at his roommate. “Look, I’ve known him since we were kids, and he’s always been kind of an ass. But he’s not psycho. I meant what I said to him. I’m glad he found you before we could get there.” He smiles, and Junhui reciprocates, appreciating the comfort. 

“You are not supposed to encourage his crush!” Seungkwan cuts in, expression severe. 

“There is no crush!” the Geminis exclaim at the same time. 

The younger rolls his eyes, scoffing. “Why does no one ever listen to me?” he laments, sinking into his seat.

“So,” Junhui ventures, carefully avoiding Seungkwan sharp glare. “You and Wonwoo are… friends?”

“Nah, nothing like that,” his roommate shakes his head. “We lived in the same neighborhood for a while, but then he moved away in middle school, and I didn’t see him again until college. Pretty sure his attitude got worse, though.”

“Maybe something bad happened to him.” 

“Jun,” Seokmin interrupts, “I don’t agree with Seungkwan often—”

“Rude!”

“—But I think he’s right. Wonwoo is like…” Thinking, he stares off through one of the windows, observing the dots of light flashing across the black canvas. “Like an ocean! Nice to look at, but deadly if you go too deep!”

For a while, there’s nothing but the rhythmic clash of metal on metal as the train travels along the rail. To say that the group finds itself speechless at Seokmin’s simile would be generous. Even Junhui, who hasn’t known him for long, is quite impressed.

“Wow,” Jihoon breaks the silence. “Maybe we should let you drink more often.”

Laughing and blushing at the praise, the usual goofball waves the issue away. “I gotta prove myself worthy of Pledis U’s standards every once in a while, right?”

“Wish it’d be more often,” Jihoon mutters.

“For what it’s worth, Wonwoo is crazy smart,” Soonyoung reflects. “Might be why he acts like the world eats out of his palm.”

“A badass who’s actually a genius,” Hansol concludes, nodding his head to himself. “No wonder their lyrics are so good.”

“I think you should be more concerned about the fact that he has a temper and doesn’t hesitate to use his fist to solve conflicts,” Seungkwan mutters, pointedly eyeing Junhui as he speaks.

Even though his friends had hoped that the insight into the supposed troublemaker would deter Junhui from curiosity, the latter finds himself spending more time reflecting on the enigma. Who is Jeon Wonwoo?

Well, if you asked Seungkwan, he’d answer: ‘a really hot stalker, but a stalker, nonetheless’. 

In comparison to most universities, Pledis is relatively small, but it still houses over three thousand students and multiple departments. Locating one person in particular should not be easy. Which is why Junhui had been more than shocked to realize that Wonwoo had been serious when he said he’d be looking for Junhui at school, too. 

It occurred on Saturday morning during brunch, while Junhui’s head was still in the clouds, thoughts swirling around a brown haired boy with dark and penetrating eyes, the sensation of fingers toying with the purple hair strands, that smirk playing on the corner of his lips.

Dinning halls are often empty on the weekends due to students going off campus or leaving for home visits. It’s one of the main reasons why the group of friends decides to spend their time and money there. The other factor has to do with the abundance of food no matter the time of day. You could have breakfast for midnight if you wanted to. A very nice perk when Jihoon and Seungkwan can’t be bothered to get out of bed before at least 10:30am. 

Once everyone grabs a tray and piles on it as many pancakes, eggs, and tater-tots as their stomachs allow, the group heads off for one of the tables in the center. It starts off as any other lazy morning, with the vocal majors talking animatedly with their musical theater friend about this or that. Junhui trails along, walking quietly with Jihoon as they settle down in the hard seats. As soon as their trays hit the surface, Hansol starts shoving tater-tots into his mouth, ears mute to the conversation floating above his head. 

Today, Junhui doesn’t have much to say to participate, since his brain is temporarily out of commission thanks to a certain train discussion concerning _that_ boy. Hence his apparent dedication to the stack of strawberry pancakes in front of him. Pretending to be engrossed in food is a lot easier than pretending he’s not contemplating the few details he’s learned about the rapper.

He’s yanked out of the fantasy by a clatter of metal utensils hitting ceramic dishware. “Oh my god!” Seungkwan exclaims around a mouthful of eggs. 

“What’s wrong?” Junhui hands him a napkin. “Are the eggs that hot?”

“No!” the young vocalist practically screeches as he grips Junhui’s wrist. The latter winces and opens his mouth to complain about the lack of blood circulation, when Seungkwan spits out, “Don’t you dare look! But  _he’s_ here! By the registers!”

“Huh?”

“I said don’t look!”

“Okay!” Junhui’s shoulders droop as if he’s trying to hide, which he doesn’t understand why. He’s not doing anything wrong. And it’s a little hard to hide in a quasi-empty room. 

The table shoots furtive looks toward one direction, probably thinking they’re being sneaky. Junhui wants to look, too, although he’s 99% sure he already knows whom his friends are talking about. Stupidly, his heart races. 

After what feels like an eternity—during which he can’t take any bites from his breakfast because his hand is still trapped under Seungkwan’s death grip—a tall and slender figure passes across his field of vision to sit a few tables away. Following him are two other males that Junhui recognizes instantly. He should be surprised that the whole band goes to Pledis, which he is to a certain extent, but he can’t fully divert much thought on it. He’s too busy gawky at Wonwoo and his outfit.

Junhui doesn’t know what he expected, to be honest. Wonwoo goes to Pledis U; he wears the ring, his friends know him. It should be safe to assume that he has to obey the rules in order to not get expelled. And yet he can’t close his slacked jaw at the sight of Jeon Wonwoo—the dark, dangerous badass rapper who cornered him against a fence—wearing the school uniform: white button-up shirt and tie, gray plaid pants, black shoes. The lack of eyeliner softens his expression, somewhat, and he almost looks like a regular college student. The vision of the man contrasts so much with his memories, Junhui has a difficult time adjusting. He has to wonder if it’s even the same guy.

The moment the rapper sits down and glances up, though, there is no longer any doubt that it's really him. Once again, he’s trapped by that piercing and steady gaze. Their surroundings are different, Wonwoo looks different, but the way he captures Junhui’s attention and holds him prisoner is undeniably familiar. He suppresses a shudder. Wonwoo smirks. 

The connection is violently broken off by his chair getting suddenly jerked to the side. Hard. Junhui almost falls out of it. Blinking, he tries to make sense of the past two seconds. Since his friends are all staring at his left, he follows their gaze to see Jihoon munching slowly on cereal with a bored expression on his face. His foot, though, is hooked around one of the front legs of Junhui’s chair. The older ducks his head, hiding the growing blush behind Hansol, who offers one of his lopsided grins. 

 

For the rest of the weekend, regardless of where the group decided on meals, Wonwoo and his friends would always come in a few minutes later, settling conspicuously nearby. Junhui is nervous. No point denying that. But he’s also frustrated. What exactly is the guy playing at? Does he enjoy watching shy people squirm that badly?

At dinner on Sunday, Jeonghan, Jisoo, and Minghao join them. The seniors had just returned from a trip to their hometowns, which the blond basically forced upon his peer to do the driving. As for Minghao, he took the Saturday and Sunday morning for dance practice. Jeonghan, always the most perceptive, picked up on the strange energy the moment he pulled his chair out. And so of course, he extracted the truth out of the fidgeting lower classman without much effort on his part. 

Contrary to what he expected, Jeonghan’s response is, “Meh, what's the issue? Let the guy take you out. Enjoy the attention at the very least. I don't see any harm.”

Seungkwan almost does a spit-take. “Are you insane? Did the sun get to you and fry off your brain?”

“Hey, now!” the older warns, voice like honey, but with enough venom to make the young music major clam up and start over. “Sorry. But there  _is_ harm!”

“What if he gets his heart broken?” Seokmin wonders, biting into a piece of chicken. “Isn’t that the harm?”

Jeonghan rolls his eyes. “And you call  _me_ dramatic. You guys need to stop babying him.”

“That’s rich coming from you,” Soonyoung snickers, earning a glare. 

“Junnie,” the oldest calls from across the table. The boy lifts his head sheepishly. “Don’t listen to those guys. You’re young, you deserve to have fun. Everyone should have a fling with a bad boy once in their lives.” 

“Pretty sure I can do without,” Jisoo states. 

“Well, we’re not all sticks in the mud, Shua.”

Jisoo only sighs and resumes eating. 

“Um…” Junhui hesitates. “I don’t really want a fling, though.” He’s not sure what he wants with Wonwoo, to be honest. But a fling just sounds so impersonal and meaningless. If he were to have anything, it’d have to be the real thing or nothing at all. And so far, having nothing at all seems like the safest solution.

“You don’t know what you’re missing,” Jeonghan sing-songs, smile dazzling. “You know, most bad boys are actually huge softies on the inside.”

“You really shouldn’t put false ideals in his head,” Jisoo suggests, but of course, the other senior ignores him.

Junhui deliberates if he wants to know how his friend appears to be such an expert on the subject matter. He decides that ignorance is bliss.

“Softie, my ass!” Seungkwan spits out. He throws a look behind his shoulder. “He’s been staring at Junhui like he’s seizing up his prey or something. Scary!” 

But Jeonghan only rolls his eyes. “Don’t you think you’re grossly exaggerating?” 

“No. He probably has a criminal record, for all we know.” 

“He wouldn’t have been admitted to Pledis if he did, though,” Soonyoung points out. 

“Whatever.” The second year waves the correction off like if it were a pesky fly. “The point is,” he looks at Junhui. “Jeon Wonwoo is the personification of trouble. You should not let yourself fall for his charms.” 

Since he seems to wait for an answer, Junhui manages a nod. “Okay.”

“Good.” 

A few seats away, Jeonghan taps the end of his fork on Junhui’s tray. “Don’t knock it till you try it,” the senior winks, taking a swig of his apple juice. “When the straight-laced golden boy meets the sexy troublemaker, that’s when sparks fly.”

Seungkwan groans, and Seokmin tries to comfort him with gentle pats on the shoulder.

Under his breath, Jihoon warns, “Just make sure those sparks don’t end up burning you.”

Not knowing how to answer. Junhui resorts to staring at his plate, twisting his fingers together.

“So I got a question,” Minghao says, finally making it known that he’s actually been listening the entire time, even though he had his earbuds stuck in his ears throughout the meal. “If Wonwoo’s the one with the weird Junhui obsession, why is his freakishly giant friend looking this way, too?”

Surprised, the group carefully glances in the direction of the band. Only to see the culprit swiftly turn around, while his friends poorly attempt to suppress their amusement. 

Junhui stares a little too long and misses his chance to escape with his dignity intact. Because once Wonwoo no longer finds his friend’s reaction funny, he lifts his gaze, meeting Junhui’s straight on. Again, the latter feels paralyzed as his heart hitches. The grin grows, but apparently feeling generous, Wonwoo breaks eye contact after only the initial second. Thankful, the anxious boy returns to his meal.

After a short trip to the bathroom to wash the sticky and sweet fruit juices on his fingers, courtesy of Hansol’s inability to peel his own orange and unwillingness to ask Seokmin, Junhui walks back to the table. Something sits on his tray that wasn’t there when he left. His friends give him knowing looks of varying degrees, ranging from disapproval to satisfaction.

It’s a Starbucks cup, filled almost to the brim, with a small mountain of whipped cream to hold the green straw in place. But that’s not what has Junhui’s stomach doing a flip, and his eyes to blink. It’s the message scrawled with Sharpie next to _Wonwoo._

 

_What’s gotten you so down? Laugh a latte, Pretty Boy_   ** _•‿↼_**

 

Who exactly is Jeon Wonwoo? One of Pledis U’s top students? The hot-tempered guy who breaks people’s nose over chewing gum? Or the dork with the lame puns? 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Violence is bad, kids! But don't disturb Wonwoo when he's reading (unless you're Jun) or you'll get a broken nose.


	3. Curious

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The library isn't just for studying...

“Lost again?” 

Junhui jumps, spinning around to see Wonwoo smirking at him. 

“You’re really skittish.”

It's debatable whether the pounding of his heart is caused by fright or Wonwoo's presence. Frowning and glaring with all the intensity he possesses in hopes it'd cease the erratic heartbeats, he mutters, “Anyone would get startled if you sneak up on them.”

But of course, instead of finding it threatening, Wonwoo only grins wider. “You just have a tendency to be too distracted, Pretty Boy. Didn’t I warn you to be more careful of your surroundings?”

“We’re at the library, though,” he argues, gradually finding it easier to breathe. “I highly doubt obnoxious drunkards are going to barge in here. And even if they do, wouldn’t I be able to hear them?”

The other cocks his head to the side, thumb toying with the strap of his messenger bag. “You didn’t hear me approaching, though.”

Junhui arches a brow. “Are you suggesting you’re dangerous?”

A wry laugh escapes. Junhui curses the butterflies in his tummy. “That’s up for you to decide, I suppose,” Wonwoo says quietly. There’s definitely something underlying that tone, but Junhui isn’t sure if he should dig deeper to find out. He swallows, which Wonwoo notices. Because of course he would. A beguiling smile appears. “I’m just trying to look out for you, Pretty Boy.”

The effect of the supposedly reassuring statement is lost when it is combined with the heated look he wracks across Junhui’s face. The latter suddenly feels nervous again, and he becomes very aware of the fact that they are alone in this corner of the floor. If Wonwoo were to try to pull something improper, Junhui doesn’t think he’d have what it takes to refuse. “ _It’s like the whole opposite attracts thing. The good kid always falls for the troublemaker.”_

_God, damnit!_ Why does Hansol have to be right about _that?_ Well, Junhui isn’t going to fall for it. No matter how tempting it is. 

Gripping his resolve with a firm hold, he takes in a breath to steady his nerves. Right before he opens his mouth to speak, he makes the deadly mistake of looking up and meeting the steady and penetrative gaze. The hitch in his breath causes the words to come tumbling out of his mouth, “That’s-very-nice-of-you,but-I-don’t-see-why-you-would-want-to-do-that!”

For a second, as Junhui’s face heats up, Wonwoo doesn’t say anything, and the former starts to think he mangled the sentence so badly, his companion couldn’t make any sense of it.

However, he interrupts Junhui’s internal panic with, “You’re cute and helpless.” He shrugs, smile betraying nothing. “That tends to bring out people’s protective instincts.” 

Poor Junhui can only gape. Protective instinct? Is this the same guy who punched someone over gum? Every time Junhui interacts with Wonwoo, he is met with another side, another facet. Are they all accurate portrayal of the man in front of him? Or merely artificial reflections he wants Junhui to believe? They haven’t broken eye contact, but now it’s Junhui who’s trying to see what lies beneath the surface. There’s no change to the intensity of his gaze, nor in the curve of his lips, but Junhui looks harder. Only a slight hardening of his expression hints at the possibility that Wonwoo’s hiding more than what he says.

Flicking his bangs out of his eyes, the latter breaks the connection. “So did you get lost again?” he repeats his earlier question, snapping the boy out of the daze. 

He shakes his head, purple hair flying. “N-no, I was just trying to find the right floor.” He’s forced to abandon his attempt at figuring out who Wonwoo is for the sake of school work, which is arguably more important. 

It’s Monday evening, and Junhui had planned on spending a few hours at the library to gather notes for his literature paper. He did not plan on getting cornered by the bad boy in the building lobby (and possibly try to psychoanalyze him). Although now that he’s thinking about it, he probably should have expected the encounter to happen sooner or later. The weekend full of ‘accidental’ meet ups in the dinning halls has come and gone, and apparently that means Wonwoo is ready to up the ante with real conversations now. Junhui just wishes he knew what is going on. He feels like Hansol, always clueless to the things unfolding around him. 

Naively, after a whole day without the bad boy making an appearance, Junhui thought ~~dejectedly~~ happily that it meant the guy had grown tired of the little game. It’s not like Junhui actually tried looking for him whenever he walked to class or exited a building. Nope. He’s just been curious. Just like he is curious about Wonwoo’s intentions and what exactly he is doing here. Maybe that’s what he wants. Maybe _that’s_ his game: making Junhui obsess with him, continuously thinking about him (not that it’s working).

Deciding not to allow himself to be sucked into whatever weird game Jeon Wonwoo might be trying to pull, Junhui swiftly turns back to the panel, scanning the tiny writing for the correct floor. He can’t turn himself into a fool or freeze like a deer in headlights if he’s not staring at Wonwoo, right?

“I’m surprised your royal guards let you walk around alone, especially after sundown. Don’t you have a curfew or something?”

“Excuse me?”

One second Junhui is reading the words ‘Level Two.’ In the next, his back hits the wall, and he’s caught in Wonwoo’s unwavering gaze. His breath catches at the sudden change of position, and then it stops completely when Wonwoo places both hands on the wall on either side of his head, caging him in. That smug and infuriating grin appears again, and Junhui forces himself not to find it attractive. 

Despite his internal scolding, his body betrays him once more. At this close distance, he notices details that he should not allow himself to. Like how the top button of Wonwoo’s shirt is undone, offering a very brief glimpse of the dip below his throat every time he exhales. He also finds himself wondering where the tattoos are. The memories he holds of the concert, albeit vivid, are somewhat muggy due to the limited light sources. Now he’s doubting whether the inked images are situated where he thinks they are. 

“That friend of yours,” Wonwoo begins casually, snapping Junhui out of his fantasy, “The kid with the chubby cheeks and blond hair.”

“S-Seungkwan?” Junhui offers in a small voice.

Wonwoo hums. “After the lecture he gave you about me, I really thought he’d be tailing you everywhere to shield you against my bad influence.”

Eyes widening, Junhui momentarily forgets that he’s supposed to be wary. “How do you know that?”

“He doesn’t exactly know how to use an indoor voice.”

Junhui’s face burns from the realization that Wonwoo overheard his friends’ gossip and most likely feels really offended. More importantly, he probably heard what they said about flings and whatnot, too.  _Oh god. He’s never talking to Jeonghan ever again._

Even though he is consumed by shame and humiliation, he was raised to be a good and polite person, so he swallows his pride and apologizes. “If we’ve offended you in any way, I’m really sorry. They were just being silly. Please don’t be angry or hold it against them.” 

A soft chuckle prompts him to glance up. Wonwoo is smiling. Not the arrogant and sinful expression he’s thrown Junhui’s way ever since they met. This smile is gentle and indulgent. Junhui gapes. He didn’t think this man was even capable of such emotions, which is wrong and unfair of him to assume. So he apologizes silently in his head. 

“You really are the golden boy,” Wonwoo muses, voice muted to the point that Junhui almost thinks he’s misheard. Or perhaps, the comment wasn’t meant to be heard at all. 

While Junhui is still lost in a daze at the change in demeanor, Wonwoo starts to pull away. He maintains eye contact, and the distance between them is still a little too close for comfort, but at least his face is not mere inches away from Junhui’s anymore. The latter can’t decide if he’s disappointed or not.

“Which floor are you trying to get to?” Wonwoo asks, surprising the golden boy. When Junhui only blinks, Wonwoo elaborates, “I’ll help you find it.”

“Oh. Thank you.”

Another grin breaks out. “I haven’t done anything yet.”

“Right.”  _Get it together, Jun._ “Um,” he tugs on his lip. “It’s the thought that counts?”

Wonwoo laughs. A real, genuine laugh. It makes his nose crinkle and the lines around his mouth more prominent. The sound is low, but cheerful, and it causes a small smile to form on Junhui’s face. Whether it’s out of pride or merely a contagious reaction, he’s not sure.

“You’re adorable, Pretty Boy,” the brunet remarks, hand reaching to tug at a purple hair strand playfully. 

Junhui bites his lip and averts his gaze, feeling the blush returning. “Thanks, but my name’s Junhui.”

“Mm. Junhui,” Wonwoo repeats as if trying it out for the first time. The third year thinks his name sounds lovely spoken in that velvety voice. “So where shall I escort you to this evening?” 

 

Contrarily to what Junhui initially thought, Wonwoo did not take him out to some scandalous escapade like Jeonghan had hoped for and Seungkwan was afraid of. Instead, he listened to the library goer telling him about the research paper, then led him to the corresponding flight of stairs. Junhui rehearses under his breath the one sentence that would thank his unexpected guide and bid him goodbye, but right when he’s about to put it into audible words, Wonwoo grabs the railing and ascends the steps.  _Maybe he’s being thorough and wants to make sure Junhui knew where to find the right shelves._

So the golden boy follows quietly behind, still repeating the same sentence to minimize the odds of tripping over the syllables and turning himself into a babbling fool, which has been happening a little too often in the presence of this new acquaintance. 

Junhui is still under the impression that Wonwoo is merely being courteous and diligent—weird sentiment to have—as he’s guided to a table by the windows.  _Okay, now he’s definitely leaving_. Or so Junhui naively thinks. He’s barely managed to unscrew his mouth to finally deliver his speech, that he sees Wonwoo pulling out a chair and plopping down into it. The messenger bag he’s been carrying lands onto the wooden surface, and to Junhui’s confusion, a laptop and several books are pulled out. It takes him a few seconds to understand that Wonwoo is counting on working here. It takes Wonwoo an extra three seconds to notice that Junhui hasn’t taken a seat.

“What?” 

“Um… What are you doing?”

The smirk makes a recurring appearance as Wonwoo glances back to the laptop to tap in his password. “I have a paper on _Antigone_  to write, too.” 

Junhui doesn’t know why he’s so surprised by the possibility that he and Wonwoo could share the same class, but he is, nonetheless. “You’re in Professor Stanley’s Greek literature course?”

“Mhm. I sit three rows behind you, actually.” The expression on his face must show the skepticism, because Wonwoo chuckles and waves a hand toward Junhui’s hair. “Even if I wanted to, you’re a little hard not to notice.”

“Oh.” Well, guess that makes sense. But wait--“If you already knew about the paper and coming here to work, too, why did you make me tell you about it?”

The other shrugs nonchalantly, fingers busy typing. “You have a nice voice. I like hearing it.”

"Um..." That's a compliment, right? "Thank you," he says slowly, earning him a brief look and a small smile.

Since Wonwoo seems to be committed to working, Junhui  sits down and follows his example, taking out his materials and spreading them out across the surface. He checks his phone for the time, telling himself he’s already behind schedule by twenty minutes, hence he needs to buckle down.

There’s still many questions swirling inside his head, though. He tries to be discreet, to mull them over and swallow them. His pencil taps the corner of his notebook, masking his agitation from wanting to make those questions audible, as purely a thinking habit. Who knows, with any luck, Wonwoo will get annoyed and leave so Junhui won’t have to be distracted anymore. _No, wait._ A chill runs down his spine, and he shivers involuntarily. The last time someone disturbed the bad boy, they ended up with a broken nose. Junhui’s nose—well, his entire face, really—is too pretty to be broken by Wonwoo’s bony fist.

Immediately, he stops fidgeting and freezes like a statue. Should he cut his losses and move to another table? But what if that offends Wonwoo? Granted, he hardly knows the guy, but if Junhui can go through life without hurting or bothering anyone, it would make him very happy.

Apparently his strange change in behavior isn’t as subtle as he had hoped. And Wonwoo picks up on it, because he cuts his eyes from the computer and glimpses at him, eyes playful. 

“You look like you have something else to say to me, Junnie.”

The addressee pretends not to enjoy the nickname, and once again, curses the butterflies in his stomach. “Um, I’m sorry,” he starts carefully, “Am I disturbing you?”

Wonwoo quirks a brow, clearly not expecting that question. “Do I look bothered?” he shoots back. Although his tone is playful, Junhui still threads with caution.

“We don’t know each other enough for me to tell yet,” he admits.

“‘Yet’, huh?” he smirks, prompting Junhui’s cheeks to flush and their owner to scold himself for the slip-up. “Well, we can change that.” Before a stock-still and bewildered Junhui, Wonwoo sits up and leans over the table in one swift movement. 

Heart beating like a drum, and too scared to face what’s about to happen, Junhui squeezes his eyes shut. He feels a large hand cradle the side of his face, a thumb pressing over his cheek bone. He stops breathing. Wonwoo’s presence comes closer; his breath fans across Junhui’s face. _Oh my god. Is he going to kiss me?!_

Right when he thinks ‘this is it’, something hard knocks against his forehead. Startled, he snaps his eyes open to see Wonwoo’s smug grin, which quickly turns to quiet laughter. Junhui sits there, stunned, forehead throbbing lightly at the head-butt. He knows his cheeks are as red as cherries by now, and he can’t label the identities of the emotions swirling in his head: anger, disappointment, or relief.

Apparently, it's the second.

“You seem a little dissatisfied, Pretty Boy,” Wonwoo teases, leaning his chin on a fist. “Did you want me to kiss you?”

Junhui bristles. “No!” he claims, but the other just shrugs and laughs. He needs to change the subject. “And you haven’t answered my question. Am I bothering you?”

Retrieving his arm, Wonwoo sits back against the chair. “Nope. I rather enjoy your company, actually.” 

Junhui can’t tell if he’s teasing again or not. He decides to take his word for it, anyway, because he’s been bursting at the seam with this question ever since the night of the concert. “Were those tattoos real?” He indicates the general area with his eyes. 

A dark brow quirks up, mimicking the twitch of Wonwoo's mouth. “As real as your obvious crush on me.”

Junhui scoffs in outrage at the comment. “I do not!”

“Okay, if you say so.” Dismissive, Wonwoo does very little to hide his amusement as he returns to his laptop. He doesn't miss the other boy tapping his pencil against the notebook, pouting, though.

After a minute to allow his heart to slow to a more natural rhythm (as natural as it can manage sitting across from _this guy_ ), Junhui says, “You do know that tattoos are not allowed by the school, right?”

“So what, you’re gonna report me?”

The question makes Junhui pause, and Wonwoo looks up again. “No…” He doesn’t want to get the guy in trouble. “I’m just curious.”

“Curiosity killed the cat,” his companion remarks, shooting a pointed look at the phone charm hanging off of Junhui’s device. “And it’d be a real shame if  _this_ particular one did before I took him out.” He wags his brows suggestively, and Junhui swallows.

The words form on their own accord. “Like… on a date?”

A shrug. “Sure, or would you rather skip the movie and dinner, and move straight to the bedroom?”

“What!” 

The near shriek and Junhui’s scandalized expression cause Wonwoo to burst into a fit of laughter. If Junhui wasn’t busy being mortified, he’d find it adorable that someone who looks so tough and brooding could sound like that.

Once he calms down from the fit, Wonwoo shakes his head and pats the back of Junhui’s hand with his pencil. “I’m just kidding, kitten.”

“Oh. Good.” His shoulders relax, and he sinks back against the chair. Relief washes over him, but it’s followed closely by disappointment, much to Junhui’s dismay. How much of that was a joke? Does it include the date? Fear and pride prevent him from asking, thus he resorts to burying his thoughts into work, instead. 

And so very much like Junhui had expected when he made his plans, he spends his evening at the library working on gathering quotes and passages pertaining to his thesis. Not like he expected, though, he has a very ~~hot~~ distractingly annoying guest sitting across from him. 

Wonwoo works methodically and in silence. The only sounds between them are the sharp clacking of keys and pen strokes rhythmically scratching paper, with the occasional rustling of pages being flipped and scanned at the end of fingertips. Junhui does his best to concentrate on what he came to the library for, but it proves to be a challenge when his eyes decide on their own to flicker over to the brunet at about two minute intervals. 

For what it’s worth, he thinks he’s being sneaky and subtle. Wonwoo thinks otherwise.

About two hours into the writing session, not lifting his eyes from the laptop screen, fingers still tapping, Wonwoo comments, “Are you planning on boring holes into my head for the rest of the night?”

Junhui chokes on air, ducking his head and erecting the book in his grasp to form a barrier between them. A good idea if it weren’t for the small detail that it’s a pocketbook, and so offers no shielding ability whatsoever. His cheeks are burning again, though, so anything to keep Wonwoo from seeing them directly is good enough. 

“Sorry,” he mumbles, hoping the words make it to the other’s ears without him having to repeat them. “I didn’t mean to stare.”

There’s rustling coming from the other side of the miniature partition, but the scaredy-cat doesn’t dare look. He guesses from the creaks and footsteps that Wonwoo pushed out his chair and got up.  _Wait, what?_

Gingerly, Junhui peeks around the edge of the book. The laptop hasn’t moved. Its owner, though, has left the seat empty.  _Where did he go?_

Immediately following the question, a shadow looms over him. The shadow is warm and smells like soap and cologne. Junhui’s breath hitches, sensing Wonwoo’s arm brush against his shoulder as he rests a hand on the table. Pale fingers drum out a beat. Junhui focuses on them instead of the overwhelming presence behind him, their bodies only separated by the back of the chair.  _Why does he keep ending up in these situations?_

There’s not much time to reflect on his predicament, because brown locks of hair enter his periphery. “If you’re done working,” Wonwoo whispers, lips inches away from the shell of Junhui’s ear, breath warm and enticing. “I can think of a few things we can do together.”

A shudder runs up his spine, and he does a very poor job at hiding it if Wonwoo’s chuckle is any indication. He screws his eyes shut, gripping the cover of the book tighter. 

“I…” It’s so hard to breathe. “I don’t know,” comes the weak, but honest, reply. All throughout his life, he’s always been the kid with the answers, the one who has his hand in the air before any other student. He’s supposed to be the smart kid, that’s why he was admitted to Pledis so readily. But now so is Wonwoo. Does the fact that Wonwoo leaves him so clueless mean he’s met his match? Again, he doesn’t know.

He doesn’t know why he’s this affected by a near stranger. He doesn’t know why he doesn’t just push the troublemaker away and go home. He doesn’t know why his heart is controlling his actions, when his brain is screaming at him to get a grip. Most of all, though— “Why are you even bothering teasing me for?” 

Upon hearing the seriousness hidden underneath the trembles in his voice, Wonwoo sighs and straightens up. He moves to lean against the edge of the table, crossing his arms as he stares down at Junhui. There’s no trace of the smirk. Just a smooth and unreadable expression. 

“You want to know the truth?”

The boy in the chair glimpses up at him from beneath thick lashes.  _No_ , his head screams. “Yes,” his mouth pronounces. 

Wonwoo hums and uncrosses his arms to rest them by his sides. Junhui doesn’t note how close the distance between their hands are. “For one thing,” the smirk returns to make Junhui’s stomach flip flop. “You’re cute. And two, you’re a challenge I want to crack.”

A light brow arches. “What is that supposed to mean?”

Wonwoo returns the question with a serene smile. 

Sputtering for a reply, Junhui does his best to appear like he knows what he’s saying and doing. Time to channel his best Diva Boo impersonation. “If you’re trying to say that—If you think you can just—ugh!”  _Why is acting tough so hard?_ He almost cries as he presses his hands over his face. Maybe if he doesn’t see Wonwoo’s smug face, he can be more fierce. “If you’re just trying to get into my pants as some sort of conquest thingy, then you can forget it, sir!” 

“My, my,” his companion laughs. “Has the kitten suddenly learned how to use claws?”

Not appreciating the sarcasm, Junhui drops his hands to throw him a glare.

“Don’t pout, Junnie,” Wonwoo says around another grin. “Unless you want me to kiss you right now.”

Junhui’s heart lurches at the words, and he refuses to acknowledge the reason why. 

“More importantly,” the brunet resumes, “I’m not trying to fuck you, well, not yet at least.” There’s a glint in those dark eyes that causes another shudder to wrack Junhui’s body. The tips of his ears must be glowing by now.

Still grinning, Wonwoo shifts his weight onto his feet in order to invade his companion’s personal space once more. They’re almost nose to nose, and he can see the kitten struggling to breathe. Full lips part, and the tip of a pink tongue pokes out to lick them. Something wavers in the dark eyes studying Junhui as they flicker from his down to his lips. Unconsciously, the former sucks in a breath. Wonwoo almost leans in too close, but he stops right before any contact is made. 

Pulling back an inch, he pinches onto Junhui’s chin as he says, “I’m gonna make you fall in love with me.” 

The seated boy jolts. “Is that supposed to be another joke?” 

Wonwoo’s smile is placating as he shakes his head. “Nope. I’m completely serious.” 

“You’re completely crazy,” Junhui retorts.

At least, that’s what comes out of his mouth. Internally, he’s chasing the butterflies in his bell with a giant net, committing to getting rid of them for good. Oh, how he wishes Jeonghan or Seungkwan were here to help. Although, on second thought, that would create an even bigger mess. If he’s allowed one person, he should wish for Jihoon. The guy might be small in size, but he could probably scare off even Wonwoo with a single seething glare. And then Junhui could go home and pretend this whole night didn’t happen. He might have to endure a lecture on the way, but having his ears chewed out by his suitemate in exchange for a rescue wouldn't be such a bad trade. 

Wonwoo watches him quietly, all smug, waiting for him to say more with a teasing smirk.

_Damn these butterflies!_

“You can’t be serious. Especially if you think I’ll just go along with that,” he adds, with much less bravado. 

“Well, that’s where the fun comes in,” Wonwoo counters, grin widening when he spots the blood rushing to Junhui’s cheeks. “I can read you like an open book, you know? You’d like to think you’re immune to my charms, but we both know you’re attracted to me. So let’s have a wager. If I succeed in making you say ‘I love you’, then I win. If not, then you’ll bring home the gold. And in the meantime, we’ll just have fun.”

Junhui narrows his eyes suspiciously. “What if you trick me into saying it with lame puns or something?”

“Ouch!” Wonwoo drops his hand to dramatically press it to his heart. “Your lack of faith in my honor wounds me, Junnie.” 

The acting earns an eye roll, but a soft chuckle tumbles out of his mouth unintentionally. He schools his expression, but that only prompts Wonwoo to laugh again. “Stop laughing at me,” he whines.

“Fine,” Wonwoo relents, but he’s still laughing. “Then give me an answer.”

Junhui looks up and meets the rapper’s eyes. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> DUN DUN DUN!!!
> 
> What's Jun's answer? Find out next time! ;D


	4. Pretend

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wonwoo wants to meet up. Junhui wants to know his secrets.

 

“You have  _got_ to be kidding me!” Seungkwan screams the next day during lunch. The piece of fried chicken he’d just picked up falls dramatically back onto his plate with a _clunk,_ crumbs of batter landing across the whole tray. His eyes are huge with bafflement, jaw slack as he stares at Junhui.

The commotion attracts the attention of a few students walking by, as well as the rest of their group. Several conversations stop mid-sentence, and every head turns toward their direction to scrutinize this corner of the table. Junhui wishes he could disappear. Actually, it’d be easier if he wished that he could master a better poker face. Last night, he’d been fortunate to return to the apartment to find it vacant of his roommate. Jihoon’s shoes were neatly arranged along the wall, but the door to his bedroom was closed, so Junhui escaped without having to explain anything to anyone. 

Until they all met up for a late lunch the following day.

Maybe the suspicion arose due to the constant fidgeting of his phone, or the nervous darting of his eyes around the room. Maybe it’s because he seemed more absentminded than usual. Whatever the case, Seungkwan picked up on it the moment they sat down. 

Junhui regrets not grabbing a sandwich and eating it alone.

Especially when Seungkwan adds, “How can you gamble your heart away like that?” throwing his hands in the air.

The recipient of the lecture winces at the volume, which doesn’t get any lower when Jeonghan joins in, gloating with enthusiasm.

“Huzzah! My baby is finally growing up!” The senior wipes away a fake tear, sniffles, then beams with pure delight. 

“Wait,” Soonyoung interjects, cheeks full of noodles. He’s never looked more like a hamster. “What happened?” 

Even Jihoon is staring at him, and he can’t be sure if the former is interested in the answer or merely annoyed at the noise, which is clearly caused by something Junhui had said. He ducks his head and lowers his eyes to the plate in front of him.

Still outraged, Seungkwan grabs his wrist as if afraid he might run off, and reports to the rest of the group. “Jeon Wonwoo propositioned him, and he accepted!” 

Junhui is sure he’s going to combust from sheer embarrassment. The vocalist really doesn’t know how to whisper. Not only does everyone at the table heard, he's pretty sure the entire dinning hall did, too. With his free hand, he attempts to hide from their friends’ upcoming comments. Too bad it doesn’t do anything to keep the shocked voices from reaching his glowing ears.

“What!” Soonyoung shrieks. Metal chopsticks clatter against ceramic plate. “That’s where you were last night?! And you didn’t tell me?!”

“No!” Junhui exclaims right away, eyes still screwed shut. “Nothing happened! And he didn’t proposition me, either! Oh, my god...” 

Before he really contemplates sliding off of the chair and curl up under the table, Jeonghan jumps in to rectify the misunderstanding. 

“Oh,” Soonyoung mulls over the information. “Guess he’s still an ass. But you stood up to him actually agreed? Good for you!” 

Junhui shrugs, messing with the lettuce leaf in the salad. He’s thought about the reason why all night long, and after a few hours, he’s managed to convince himself that it’s because he wants to prove Wonwoo wrong, to beat the player at his own game. Not for any other reason. 

Taking in a deep breath, he lifts his gaze to full look at his friends. “It’s just a game,” he tells them, voice smaller than he intended. “I don’t even have to do anything, really.” 

Unlike their roommate, Jihoon doesn’t voice his opinion out loud. But the judgmental glare he shoots Junhui’s way is scalding. Seokmin is too speechless to form coherent words, and Minghao merely shakes his head. As usual, Hansol isn’t paying attention. 

Jeonghan speaks up, “Don’t worry, Jun. I am going to be teaching you everything you need to know in order to crush him,” he vows.

“Oh, geez,” Seungkwan sighs and rolls his eyes.

“Umm…” Junhui interjects weakly, daring a quick glance toward the older, brows furrowed. “I thought you wanted me to… you know, date him and stuff…” God, even saying it out loud is embarrassing.

“No,” the senior corrects gently. “I want you to experience life on the wild side and have fun in a commitment-free sort of way. We all know things will never last between us and them,” he adds dismissively.

Soonyoung interrupts, mouth full of noodles again, “And by ‘us’ and ‘them’ you mean…?”

“The good kids and bad seeds.”

Jisoo stops eating to look heavenly. “If Jeonghan’s a good kid, then I must be a saint.”

The table roars with laughter, except for Jeonghan, who seems thoughtful. Once everyone quiets down, he says, “But you were, though. In fifth grade, you were St. Christopher for the school play.”

“Oh boy…” is all Jisoo says in reply along with a long sigh as he shakes his head and continues to eat.

“Can we get back to the important things now?” Seungkwan wants to know, completely ignoring his slice of pizza. “While I am glad that Jeonghan and I agree that there is no future, I am appalled!” he emphasizes, making Junhui jump. “Appalled! That you two—” he points accusingly at Soonyoung shoving another giant bite into his mouth, and at Jihoon who’s spearing a piece of potato—“allowed him to say yes to that ridiculous request!”

“Would you please quiet down?” the shorter boy demands. “I just came out from a mind numbing two-hour lecture on cellular respiration, and I would like to eat my food in peace.”

“Besides,” Soonyoung jumps in, wiping the corner of his mouth with a napkin Junhui hands him. “Thanks. Besides, we’re Junhui’s roommates, not his parents. And like I said, Wonwoo’s not dangerous. He’s just doing this to rile Jun up or something, and Jun took the challenge. Stop freaking out.”

Seungkwan scowls. “Am I cursed to always being alone in my principles?” 

“Well, it’s not like Jun agreed to marry him or anything,” Seokmin says helpfully. “So I think we should wait and see. Who knows?” As a bright smile breaks across his face, he claps his hands together. “Maybe it’ll be like the movies where the bad boy turns out to have a heart of gold!”

“Ugh!” the other vocalist groans and face palms. “Seokmin, I know you’re enjoying your films class, but you need to put it on pause once you leave the lecture hall.”

Instead of taking offense, the second year laughs. “But you have to agree that the movies are inspired by life. Art imitates life, after all.”

“Why am I even trying?”

“So when’s the first date?” Minghao asks with as much interest as he shows his lab reports. Junhui wonders why he even wants to know. Maybe he does care a little bit.

The latter shrugs, chewing the burger carefully. “I-I’m not really sure.”

“What do you mean?” Jeonghan wants to know. “What happened last night after you agreed?”

“Uh… nothing?” When the table only stares back at him, he shrugs again, a little sheepish. “We just studied and wrote our papers, then we went back to our respective apartments. Oh, I guess we exchanged numbers,” he adds as if it would suffice to satisfy his gossip hungry friends. 

Jeonghan blinks at him. “You were alone at the library. At night. With a hot guy who just propositioned you. And all you did was study?”

“Yeah…”

For some reason, the senior seems very offended. “I thought Jeon Wonwoo was supposed to be a badass who’s gonna show my Junnie a good time! Not another nerd!”

“Shhh!” Junhui hushes quickly, eyes darting around. “Don’t be so loud.” If he were close enough, he would have clamped his hand over the blond’s big mouth. So far, Wonwoo hasn’t made an appearance in the dinning hall, but who knows when he’ll suddenly pop up? What if he overhears  _this_ conversation, too? Forget the bet, Junhui would forfeit and spend the rest of his life in his room to hide from the humiliation.

Soonyoung laughs at Jeonghan’s petulant frown. “Didn’t I already tell you that he’s crazy smart? He gotta study, too, if he wants to stay enrolled here.” 

“But that is so  _boring_!”

“Jeonghan,” Jisoo says quietly, “Junhui’s life is not your personal soap opera.”

“Oh, hush, Shua.” 

It’s a few minutes later that Junhui’s phone goes off. He actually jumps from the vibration in his pocket, but thankfully, his friends are too preoccupied with weighing in on Jihoon’s coffee ~~possible~~  evident addiction to notice him. Pulling the device out and glimpsing at the screen causes butterflies to swarm his stomach again. It’s only after he recovers from the slight worrisome thrill that he winces from the cheesy name Wonwoo forced him to set as his contact info.

 

**Tall Pale & Handsome •‿↼ : **when does ur last class get out?

 

**Jun Moon:** @6:20 why?

 

**Tall Pale & Handsome •‿↼ : **perfect

**Tall Pale & Handsome •‿↼ : **i’ll meet you outside of ur apt at 6:30

 

**Jun Moon:** wait! why tho?

 

 

Junhui furrows his brows and purses his lips.  _That jerk_. There’s a little checkbox under his text, which means he saw it, and yet refused to explain himself. Junhui has half a mind not to show up, but that meant he’d have to avoid his own apartment, and that’s ridiculous. Why would Wonwoo want to meet, though? Is he reconsidering their little game? Does he want to see Junhui face to face to withdraw the offer now that he’s had a full day to process it? Maybe spending those few hours together made him realize that Junhui really isn’t all that impressive and that messing with him isn’t as fun as the bad boy originally thought.

He’s so caught up in his own thoughts, he doesn’t notice the mischievous glint reflecting in his friends’ eyes until his phone is snatched right out of his hands.

“Hey!” he cries, reaching for it. But it’s too late. It’s already been tossed from one person to another, until it arrives in Jeonghan’s grasp. Junhui gulps.

“Well, well, well…” the senior grins, scanning the screen and cheering. “Looks like Junhui’s going on his first date tonight!”

“It’s not a date,” he refutes. “He probably wants to tell me he’s changed his mind.”

“What?” Seungkwan squawks, clearly appalled at the idea. “Who does he think he is? If someone’s gonna dump him, it should be you.”

“Um… I don’t think that’s how it works.”

“Whatever.” The younger angrily bites into the apple. “He’s lucky I’ll be in rehearsal until eight, or I’d be there to give him a piece of my mind!”

Miraculously, Hansol apparently listened in to this conversation, since he tips back his soda and says, “Boo, you were shaking like a leaf when you saw him at the concert. The only thing you’ll give him is a good laugh.”

“Rude!”

“Um, can I please have my phone back?”

Instead of returning the device to its owner, Jeonghan uses it to wave around in emphasis, completely ignoring the third year’s request. “Let’s hurry up. We gotta go shopping.”

“No, we don’t,” Jihoon deadpans. “Just give him back his phone.”

“No. And we  _are_ going. You can’t show up to a date wearing your school uniform.”

Junhui heaves a sigh and contemplates the pros and cons of jumping over the table to retrieve the phone. “Even if I wanted to, which I don’t,” he says instead, “I have class in less than thirty minutes.”

“So?” Jeonghan shrugs, still waving the phone around. “This is important, and nothing bad will happen from skipping class occasionally.”

“You should know,” Jisoo mutters, earning him a glare, not that he notices when his attention is directed at the pudding in his hands.

“I can’t skip class, though,” Junhui insists. “And I know you mean well, but it’s really not that big of a deal. So can we just… pretend nothing’s going on?”

The senior makes a displeased face, but when he looks at Junhui’s pleading gaze, he lets out a breath and nods. “Fine. Here.” Before Junhui can grab the phone, though, he pulls it back. “But I expect a full report once you’re home.”

“Right.” Junhui’s already feeling a headache coming along. Is it too late to ditch everyone and practice the hermit life?

 

 

** _6:28pm._ **

Slightly out of breath, Junhui comes to a screeching halt when he spots a familiar tall male with dark hair loitering in front of his building. Said male's attention is diverted to his phone, allowing the previously running boy to catch his breath and feign an air of nonchalance, all the while passing a hand through his hair to smooth out the wayward strands. By the time he gets close enough that Wonwoo sees him, the heaving of his chest is more a result of his company than the sprint across campus.

Similarly to Junhui, Wonwoo is still in his school uniform. However, he’s pulled down the suspenders from his shoulders and left them to hang loosely down his legs. The top buttons of his shirt are undone, and the tie had completely vanished. Junhui can’t help but comparing the new look to a wolf in sheep’s clothing. Well, at least he should be glad that he didn't let Jeonghan drag him shopping for some probably outrageous and ostentatious street clothes.

Wonwoo flashes him a smile when they’re within hearing distance, and he momentarily forgets what he’s been thinking about. “Hey, Pretty Boy. Were you that excited to see me?”

Letting out a snort, Junhui retorts, “As if. I don’t like being tardy, that’s all.” 

There’s that annoying smirk again. “That’s all? Color me disappointed.”

Junhui lets out a laugh at the lame joke, and it’s not forced at all, even if he wants to pretend it is. 

Before he can inquire why Wonwoo asked him to meet, though, the latter asks, “You hungry?”

“Yeah, a little.”  _A lot_. “It’s close to dinner time, I guess.”

“Good.” Seemingly satisfied, Wonwoo cracks a smile and reaches for Junhui’s hand. “Let’s go.” 

_Abort mission! Abort mission!_

Junhui did not mentally prepare himself for this. He has no idea what to do or how to react. By the time his brain catches up, having to circumvent the rising temperature threatening to boil it, Wonwoo’s already wrapped his hand around Junhui’s and tugging him forward. The panic subsides fractionally when he realizes that the action can still be considered platonic since their fingers aren’t laced together. It’s not the physical contact that unnerves him. After all, Junhui’s a big fan of displaying affection with small touches. But what has his mind spinning is the implication behind the action. He knows why  _he_ latches on to people; he has no idea why Wonwoo does. He doesn’t want to overthink it, but at the same time it’s hard not to get your hopes up. 

“Oh, and I forgot to ask,” Wonwoo cuts through his thoughts. “Were you planning on meeting your friends here, too?”

“Huh?”

Gesturing with a flick of the head, he indicates toward the lawn. Confused, Junhui follows his eye line and blanches when he sees Jeonghan ~~sitting~~  posing in front of a tree with a book and glasses, pretending to be engrossed in the pages rather than the boys across the pathway. Next to him, Jisoo is waving enthusiastically, while Soonyoung is trying to fight Minghao for a bag of chips. 

On the one hand, he should have expected it. On the other, he wishes he could dig a hole and hide from the awkwardness.

“No, uh, I guess they like hanging out there,” Junhui replies with a nervous chuckle, not making eye contact with anyone.

“Wanna go say hi?”

“No!” he almost screams, causing Wonwoo to laugh. “I mean, uh, I’m hungry. So let’s just get some food.”

“As you wish.”

Wonwoo is still laughing as he guides a blushing Junhui down the street toward the parking lot. They stop in front of a black motorcycle, and the apparent owner hands Junhui a blue helmet. Which he holds to his chest as Wonwoo straddles the seat and turns on the engine. It’s embarrassing to admit, but Junhui actually startles from the sudden roar.

When he doesn’t sense a body climbing on, Wonwoo turns around, face partially hidden by the red helmet. “What’s wrong?”

“I’ve… I’ve never ridden on a motorcycle before,” he admits, glad that the engine conceals the tremors in his voice.

“There’s a first time for everything,” he teases. However, not seeing the wariness vanish from Junhui’s tense shoulders, he softens his voice and takes the tan fingers into his. He squeezes once. “It’s gonna be fine. Junnie, look at me.” Despite the gentle tone, Junhui’s head immediately snaps upward to meet the request. “I’m not gonna let anything bad happen to you, okay?” 

He nods, unreasonably trusting this man who’s so different from anything he’s ever experienced or known. There’s a nagging voice at the back his head, though, (which sounds a lot like Seungkwan's) cautioning him that the sweet words might just be a ploy. He hesitates again, but then Wonwoo smiles softly, and Junhui feels a strange sense of calmness wash through him, making the warning ebb away. 

“But what if I fall, though,” he asks as he puts the helmet on. He sees Wonwoo laugh more than he hears it.

“Then you better hold on tight, Pretty Boy.” With that said, he grabs Junhui’s hands and wraps them around his slender waist. 

The tug lands Junhui’s chest smack against his back, and he’s not quite sure what’s worse for his heart: the position of his hands, or the heat emanating from Wonwoo’s back and seeping into his torso.  _Oh god, what if he can feel how hard my heart is beating?_ The passenger tries to put some distance between their bodies, but Wonwoo stops the movement with a firm grip over both of Junhui’s wrists. 

“I was serious, you know,” he states, half turning over his shoulder to make eye contact. “If you don’t hold on, you’re gonna fall off.” 

With burning cheeks, Junhui tightens his hold, deciding that being embarrassed is the much better alternative to splattered brains. “Okay.”

They arrive at their destination not long after, and Junhui is grateful that he neither lost his head nor his dignity. He’s managed to keep his fright to himself instead of vocalizing them out loud, which would have probably given Wonwoo a stomachache from all the laughing he’d go through.

Wonwoo leads him around the block to a small Italian restaurant that’s often used by many school clubs as the site for socials and pizza runs. Unlike the majority of the student population, Junhui’s only been here a couple times for club purposes. He likes it, though. The atmosphere and dishes are a lot nicer than the dinning halls, but it’s still casual enough that no one would feel pressured to the point of being stiff as a board. The hostess walks them to a booth by the windows and offers them the menus.

The boys make small talk about the selection of foods until their waiter arrives with iced water, ready to jot down their orders. 

“They’re not kidding when they say the dish is spicy,” Wonwoo comments, referring to the pasta dish they ordered once the server leaves. 

Junhui nods in satisfaction. “Good.”

Leaning back into his chair, Wonwoo arches a brow. 

“When my friends and I go out,” Junhui starts to explain, “We always have to choose the mild dishes for Soonyoung, since we all share the food. So to have the option of getting something spicy without fear of burning off his tongue is great.”

“I see,” Wonwoo mulls it over, swirling the ice in his drink. When he glances up, he’s smirking. “So you like it hot, huh?”

Warmth spreads over his cheeks, but a laugh manages to escape. “Yeah, you can say that. Soonyoung tried a bite of my noodles once, and the poor guy started sweating buckets. His whole face turned red, and we couldn’t get him milk fast enough.” The memory makes him giggle as he plays with the utensils. 

Wonwoo laughs quietly, probably imagining the scene, but then he sits up and rests his arms on the table. “You know, most guys wouldn’t really appreciate you talking about another guy during a date.”

Junhui’s heart skips a beat, but he feigns aloofness. “Is this a date?”

“Ouch!” his ‘date’ chuckles, sitting back again. “First my honor, and now my pride. Here I thought I was being too obvious.”

Amusement causes his mouth to quirk up. “Well, you never really specified, so for all I know, we could just be getting food like anyone else around.”

“Should I have gotten you flowers, then?” he teases. “Would that have been better?”

The question is temporarily put on hold as the waiter comes to set down their drinks. Junhui sips on the straw, letting the tartness and sour taste of the lemonade sans sugar coat his tongue, and hopefully cool his cheeks. All the while hyper-aware of Wonwoo’s expectant gaze on him.

“That’d be sweet,” he answers at last, bending the straw in all directions. “But it’s fine.”

“What, you don’t like flowers?”

He shakes his head, “It’s not that. I like flowers, it’s just…”

“Just what?” he prompts.

“Alright, just don’t laugh, okay?”

Wonwoo lifts a hand and points to his heart, where he marks a cross. “I’ll be on my best behavior.”

A light brow quirks, but a soft laugh tumbles out before he explains, “When you asked to meet up without any explanation, I thought it was to tell me that the wager was off, that you wanted to withdraw.”

Staring at him steadily, his companion asks, “Why would I do that?”

He shrugs, addressing the napkin dispenser sitting at the edge of the table. “I don’t know, because the chase is always more exciting? Once I agreed, the thrill kinda wore off? Because you had a whole day to come to your senses and see that I’m really not that interesting?”

“You got all that from a few texts?” Since all he gets in answer is a sheepish glance, he sighs and continues, “Well, I’ll tell you now, I’m no quitter. I’m gonna get those three words out of you.”

The confidence in the statement stirs a funny feeling in the pit of Junhui’s stomach, but he ignores it as he retorts with a small smile, “Do you really starve for attention and an ego boost that badly?”

“Oh, you know,” Wonwoo shrugs, smug grin returning to dance on his lips. “There’s nothing better than getting your ego stroked.” Keeping eye contact, his grin widens. “Well, almost nothing.”

It takes Junhui a couple seconds to grasp the double entendre, but once he does, his face turns almost as red as the peppers floating in the jar of oil by his elbow. The sight causes Wonwoo to laugh freely.

“So I gotta ask,” Wonwoo says casually, hand swirling the straw in his iced tea. A finger leaves his grip to wave toward Junhui’s general direction. “What’s up with the hair color?” Junhui glances upward at his purple bangs, hearing Wonwoo add, “I mean, I like it. It’s cute, but I’m positive you didn’t start the year looking like a plum.”

“I like plums,” he says under his breath, which makes his companion crack a smile. “But anyway, it was Soonyoung’s idea of bonding, I guess. He dragged Jihoon and me to his aunt’s salon, and we just went along.”

The glass makes a _clink_ when it’s put back on the table. Junhui looks away from the floating ice cubes to the boy across the table. There’s a weird intensity in the way he stares at Junhui as he wipes the drop of tea from his lip with a thumb. Junhui gulps, recognizing that look from the night of the concert. It’s the same way he had glared at the boys when they came to find their lost friend.

“Soonyoung again, huh?” Wonwoo mutters. “He’s your roommate?”

Junhui nods, a little uncertain of the apparent hostility. “D-Do you not like him or something?”

“No, it’s not that,” comes the short and unsatisfactory answer. His face is unreadable, but the displeasure radiates out of his body the same way his confident attitude does.

Threading carefully, he ventures, “He mentioned you guys knew each other from when you were young.”

A dark brow quirks. “He talked to you about me?”

“Well,” Junhui hesitates, twisting the napkin in his hands. “A little, when I asked him about you after the concert.”

It’s like a switch has been flipped. The smirk and swagger returns, completely erasing the previous emotions from Wonwoo’s handsome face. He leans forward on an elbow, grin stretching when he watches Junhui’s pupils dilate. “I’m flattered you want to know more about me, Pretty Boy. But do me a favor,” he reaches across the couple inches to squeeze Junhui’s fingers, creating a similar sensation around the latter’s heart. “Next time you have questions, come to the source.” 

Junhui studies him for a second, leaving his hand where it rests under the pale fingers. “Are you hiding something?” he whispers.

His date’s face cracks into a teasing grin as he pulls back and sips on his drink. “Don’t we all?”

A rush races down the boy’s spine, but he’s unable to determine its meaning. He blinks. “I don’t think so.”

The smile softens, and so does his gaze. “Of course you don’t. You’re the Golden Boy, honest and responsible. You wouldn’t have anything to hide.” 

“Then if I were to ask, would you tell me?”

“Maybe.” A flash of teeth. “If you figure out the right questions.” 

Their food arrives then, interrupting the strange tension hanging in the air. It’s very different from the way it’s been between them until then. It’s a lot less playful, even if Wonwoo wants to spin it that way. Deciding to let him think he achieved his goal, Junhui tucks the doubts and inquiries to the back of his mind to be revisited later. 

For now, the boys thank the waiter, then dig in. Junhui isn’t aware of how hungry he is until he takes the first bite. The kick of the peppers and spices numb his lips and tongue just the way he likes it. 

“Since you seem to be so open, let me ask you something,” Wonwoo says toward the end of the meal as they wait for Junhui’s ice cream. Once the latter nods, he goes on, “Why did you agree to the bet so easily?”

Junhui plays with the straw, attempting to spear the hole in the ice cube. He shrugs. “Pride, the need to prove you wrong, and the satisfaction of winning.” 

“Is that all?” the other asks, not believing him at all. “Not for any other reason, huh?”

“Nope.”

“Okay, if you say so, Pretty Boy.” Leaning against the back of his chair, he smirks, voice deep with sarcasm, “Always so honest.”

The ice cream arrives, and Junhui is saved from providing any more commentary on the matter of whether or not he lied.

He does, however, cry out in protest when Wonwoo steals a bite of the dessert. It’s more out of surprise than unwillingness to share. He’s not  _that_ much of a glutton. Wonwoo merely laughs at his reaction. They talk a little bit about class and the paper they’re supposed to write as Junhui eats the rest of the ice cream. The topic seems to be intended as a sort of “safe zone” to dispel the tension of the previous topics. With that in mind, Junhui still finds himself enjoying himself. None of his friends are taking the same class, and it’s nice to discuss the material with someone who understands all the references. Although he pretends to be annoyed when Wonwoo makes fun of his ‘childish excitement’ as he so nicely put it, the conversation leaves smiles on both of their faces. 

When the bill comes, Wonwoo insists on paying for the both of them despite Junhui’s objections. 

“I’m the one who’s trying to woo you, remember?” he teases a pouting Junhui. 

Afterward, Wonwoo drives them back to campus and walks Junhui to his building. To say that he’s not nervous would be a lie. Even though he’s gradually gotten somewhat slightly comfortable being around the rapper, he’s not exactly sure what he wants to happen when they arrive at the entrance. This was supposed to be a date, right? Does that mean Wonwoo is going to try to kiss him goodnight? He’s made comments about it twice now. Were they all just jokes to tease Junhui? Well, there isn’t much more time to think, because they’ve arrived.

“Um, thanks for dinner,” Junhui says softly, fidgeting with his fingers. Knowing that he’d feel guilty later on if he doesn’t admit it, he reluctantly adds, “It was nice,” in the smallest voice he could muster in hopes that Wonwoo wouldn’t pick up on it.

But of course he does. They’re alone out here, with only a soft breeze blowing through the trees to rustle their leaves. A deep chuckle adds to the lovely sound. “Just nice?”

Pursing his lip, Junhui narrows his eyes. He sees Wonwoo grin wider, though. “Will you ever stop teasing me?”

“Guess you’ll have to stick around to find you, huh?” he wags his brows.

Junhui rolls his eyes, biting back the smile threatening to tug on the corners of his lips. “Again with the teasing.” 

“All part of my charms,” he retorts, not missing a beat.

Not to be outdone, the other shoots back, “Well, then your charms suck.”

The comment prompts a genuine laugh to fill the gap between them, and Junhui smiles despite himself. Wonwoo takes a step forward, and they’re almost nose to nose. “I’m glad you had fun, Junnie,” he replies, voice low and smooth. 

There it is again. That nickname. It always sounds so affectionate spoken from Wonwoo’s lips, successfully pulling butterflies out of nowhere like magic to wreck havoc in his poor tummy. Without meaning to, he ends up leaning in, resting his forehead on his date’s. His eyes flutter close, basking in the quiet whispers of trees and the sensation of a slightly cool touch enveloping his hand. For a few seconds, he wants to pretend. Pretend that this isn’t part of some game. Pretend it’s just a normal date with a guy he finds both fascinating and aggravating at the same time, a guy who makes his heart pound and puts a smile on his face. 

Pretend everything is real.

A soft laugh spills out of Wonwoo’s lips, shattering the illusion and prompting Junhui open his eyes with reluctance. He’s met with a gentle smile and a hint of mischief in the other’s gaze.

“You can’t do things like that, kitten,” Wonwoo murmurs, breath fanning across Junhui’s face. The latter blinks, not understanding what he means. He laughs again, quieter this time. He lifts his free hand and draws gentle strokes across the pink cheek. “I don’t have super self-control.” 

That confuses the boy even further, large eyes blinking naively at him. “What do you mean?” 

“So innocent,” he muses with a wry laugh. “No wonder your friends are so worried about you being with me.”

Junhui pouts, brows pulled together. “I’m not a baby.”

The sulky retort causes Wonwoo to crack a smile as he reaches up to smooth out the crease between the fair brows. “No, but you are cute and defenseless.”

The comment gets him an eye roll, but the blush creeping up is clearly noticeable, even under the hazy lights. There’s a shy smile dancing on Junhui’s lips, and it’s making Wonwoo shuffle his feet a bit.

“I think you should head inside,” he tells Junhui, “Before I decide to take you home with me.”

The other’s eyes widen in shock, but he has yet to move away. “That’s, um… fast. Very fast.”

Wonwoo hums in agreement, easy smile still apparent, but there’s something dark swirling in his eyes that makes Junhui gulp. He’s not certain what Wonwoo is thinking, but whatever it is, he’s pretty sure his heart would not survive the experience. Still, he wants to know something.

Shakily, he wonders, “You’re not gonna try to pull any tricks? Make me say it by sunrise and win the bet?”

“Why would I want to end this so prematurely?” he asks. Then he moves in, making Junhui’s breath hitch. The reaction draws a satisfied dark chuckle from him as he lines his lips by the shell of Junhui’s ear. A shudder wracks through him at the words spoken in that velvet voice. “I promise that when I do take you home, you’ll be a willful participant. But even the best and most patient men have their limits.” He pulls away just enough to meet Junhui’s wide eyes. “So unless you want to personally test out those limits on me, I recommend you follow my advice and go back to your friends.”

Taking in shallow breaths though slightly parted lips, Junhui attempts to find any hint of amusement or playfulness to indicate another joke. But he can still only see and feel that heated stare boring into him. So he takes the suggestion and backs up a step. And another. 

It’s not until he’s taken three steps back that Wonwoo finally lets go of his hand, but not before squeezing it one last time. “Goodnight, Junnie.”

“Goodnight, Wonwoo.” 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So is it all pretend or could Wonwoo be developing FEELINGS??? In any case, Junnie's screwed XD


	5. Books

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Books open the way to new possibilities

Out of sight of prying eyes, Junhui enters the elevator and rides it to the third floor, humming happily to himself. His head is swimming in giddiness as he strides down the hallway, fingers still tingly from Wonwoo’s cool touch. There’s a silly grin stretching his lips that he doesn’t bother concealing, and a light flutter in his chest that puts a spring in his step. He's aware that the factors bringing the date to light were less than noble, and he knows that he shouldn’t wear his heart on his sleeve. But he’ll deal with all of that tomorrow. For now, he just wants to bask in the gentle glow of happiness. 

ID card out, he inserts it into the electronic lock and punches in the number. The tiny light flashes green in the same instant that the high-pitch  _beep_ echoes down the hall. Junhui retrieves the card and pushes down on the handle to enter the apartment. Only to have the cool metal yanked out of his grasp from the other side, causing him to yelp as he stumbles across the threshold. The momentum sends him crashing into the person behind the door.

“Junnie!” Soonyoung exclaims, steadying him with a hand over his shoulder. “We were starting to think you wouldn’t come back here tonight.”

“Huh?”

Not leaving room for any further sort of response, his roommate grabs him by the wrist with one hand, while the other slams the door shut. Then he all but drags his Gemini twin toward the living room, where the rest of their friends can be heard talking loudly. The unyielding tug results in Junhui almost tripping over his own shoes as he attempts on sliding them off.

“How was it?” Jeonghan, lounging in the armchair as though it were a throne, starts the interrogation immediately, not even waiting for Junhui to get his balance back.

“Uh, it was nice,” he answers truthfully. He takes a seat on the floor next to Jihoon, who seems to be trying to do physics homework. Idly, Junhui wonders why the shorter boy chose to work on his assignments here, where he couldn’t possibly concentrate with all the distractions around. 

“Where did you go?”

“That little Italian restaurant everyone goes to.”

Seungkwan approves. “Not bad.”

“They have really good breadsticks,” Seokmin comments.

For the rest of the evening, his friends take turns bombarding him with questions, and about halfway through, Junhui sort of mentally checks out. He still has half an essay to write, a whole set of o-chem problems to solve, and about two-hundred pages to read for his lit class. That’s what he  _should_ be thinking about, but instead, he’s replaying the entire date through his mind and obsessing over the details again, as if the daydreaming done in the elevator and down the halls weren’t enough already. 

Specific things come to mind, though, instead of the general memories of the evening. Like how uncharacteristically soft Wonwoo’s hand was, how warm and safe his back had felt when Junhui hung on for dear life, and of course, how fondly the supposed badass had gazed at him in the entranceway. He thinks about how Wonwoo can make him feel so safe one second, and in the next, like he’s teetering on top of a rollercoaster, stomach dropping with fear and excitement for the impending thrill to come. He shouldn’t like it—the lack of control and predictability. But he does, and he’s not sure if that’s a sign that his sense of self-preservation is waning. 

A stack of papers whacks him in the back of the head. 

He startles from the fright more than the pain, head whipping around. The boys loitering around his living room are giving him a weird look, and he stares back with an equally confused expression. A brief peek to his side shows Jihoon restacking his homework, a pleased smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

Junhui frowns. “Why did you hit me?” he whines, rubbing at the spot.

“Sorry, did we interrupt your daydreams with a certain bad boy?” Soonyoung teases, making kissy faces at him, followed by pokes to his side.

He squeals, battling the hands as he joins in the laughter and retaliates. “Hey! You know I’m ticklish!”

“That’s the whole point, dummy!”

“Well, this ‘dummy’ scored higher than you in every one of our classes.”

Soonyoung snorts, dodging his attack. “That just makes you a nerdy dummy. Ha!” Rolling to the side, he escapes the pillow thrown at him from the couch. From a safe distance, he pants out, “When you finally reach level seventeen,” he points to their game console. “Then we’ll talk.”

Huffing, Junhui grabs another pillow, this time hitting his target. “Ha!” Victory seems all too fleeting when his roommate picks up the ammunition and aims for him. Junhui scampers toward their mutual suitemate, disregarding his size. 

Not lifting his eyes from his homework, Jihoon calls over Junhui’s head. “Don’t even think about it, Kwon Soonyoung,” he warns. “Your aim is horrible, and I am using a pen. I will not have my homework marred by squiggly lines.”

“Fine,” the other grumbles, dropping the pillow dejectedly, and mutters, “You always take Junnie’s side.”

The griping comes to a stop when Jihoon shoots him an icy glare. 

“Ah, children,” Jeonghan comments with a wistful sigh, resting his cheek on a fist as he reclines in the seat, legs dangling off of the armrest. 

“You do realize,” Soonyoung says as he gathers the pillows with Junhui, “That we’re only a year younger than you.”

“Semantics,” the older waves his hand in the air. “But let’s recap tonight’s events. I’m getting sleepy.”

Junhui feels a little uneasy at the thought that he spaced out so much, he completely disregarded whatever plans his friends had been discussing. That would explain the whack to the head. Maybe if he listens closely now, he can catch up without appearing too clueless.

“First, nice going Jun on a job well done,” Jeonghan says.

“Huh?” _Well that didn’t take long to blow his cover._

The senior goes on as if the clueless Golden Boy hasn’t exclaimed anything. “Second, Wonwoo is a lot better at this woo-ing business than I thought.”

_Ha! Wonwoo… wooing… Wait, Jun, pay attention before Jihoon hits you again._ He shakes his head and pretends to be fixing his bangs. 

“So we need to up the ante!” comes Jeonghan’s declaration as he raises a fist in the air for emphasis. 

Perched on a kitchen stool, Jisoo blows out a sigh but refrains from making further comments, probably knowing his peer will more than likely ignore his good judgement. Junhui feels bad for his friend. Jisoo must have the patience of a saint. Either that, or he secretly loves all the craziness and silly antics they almost always seemed to pull. Or his love and loyalty for his friends outweigh all the bad choices. Maybe it’s a combination of all of those factors that prompts him to act like the responsible adult once Jeonghan gets into one of his trickster moods, ensuring no one goes overboard.

“Why should he be the only one having fun? Junnie, I want you to make him fall in love with you.”

Jeonghan’s comment punctures through the musings. “Wait, what?” Did he hear him right? Junhui needs to stop zoning out.

“Oi, not again…” Seungkwan laments, face palming. “I thought we agreed that it was just a bet, and that while I  _highly_ disapproves, the whole point of the affair is to let Junhui experience ‘dating a bad boy' without any strings attached. Why do you have to complicate matters even more?”

“Because this is necessary! Besides,” he clears his throat. “Junhui is putting his heart on the line here.” He fixes the person of interest with a stare and a pointed finger. “I hate to tell you this, Junnie, but from the dreamy expression on your face, there’s no way in hell you won’t catch feelings for him.”

“What! No, I—” 

“—Which is why,” he talks over the younger’s weak protests, “We need to go on the defensive. If Wonwoo starts to develop feelings for Junhui, then he won’t be able to do anything to break our precious friend’s heart! It’s perfect!” 

“It’s ridiculous,” Jihoon comments, voice still dead. 

“I agree,” Minghao comments from his spot on the floor next to Hansol. The both of them had started watching a movie on Junhui’s laptop at some point, sharing a pair of earbuds. It’s a wonder Minghao even paid attention to what was happening around them.

While Seokmin seems pensive, Seungkwan shakes his head, clearly displeased as he grimaces. “I don’t understand your logic.” 

Jeonghan lets out a long, dramatic sigh. “At this rate, Junhui is going to fall in love in less than a week—” 

“Hey!”

“—and Wonwoo will abandon his beating heart out in the rain.”

Even the imagery is enough to make him wince. 

“However! We, as Junhui’s friends, can stop that very thing from happening by turning the tables on Wonwoo. Make  _him_ fall in love with Jun, ideally before Jun does for him. That way, our friend can retain his Golden Boy status, experience something exciting,  _and_ keep his heart intact.” The blond pauses long enough to give his dongsaengs a good look. “Does that make sense now?”

Jihoon raises a brow. “You want to reap all the benefits without giving anything up in exchange.”

“Basically.” 

“Wow,” Hansol says slowly, although it’s not certain whether he’s talking about Jeonghan's thought process or the movie plot until he adds, “Talk about scheming. No wonder everyone wants you on their teams.”

Proud and satisfied, Jeonghan glows from the praise. “Thank you for noticing.”

Seungkwan mulls it over. “Fine…” he accepts reluctantly. “I guess it does make _some_ sense. Barely.” The last word is uttered under his breath, away from Jeonghan’s ears.

Then Seokmin speaks up after some reflection. “Wouldn’t that just mean that we’re helping Junhui and Wonwoo fall in love with each other?” Everyone stops to look at him. “Right? That’ll be sweet, like the movies!” He grins, enough to make Junhui laugh softly at the simplicity. And they called  _Junhui_ naive.

“Not  _this_ again,” Seungkwan groans. “This is not your movie class. Jun and Wonwoo are not going to end up together. This is just a game: whoever falls first loses.”

Junhui’s known, all this time, that that is the ultimate goal. He’s told himself that he’s in it to prove the bad boy wrong, to win. But then why, when his friends put it that way, does his chest ache so much? 

_________________________

 

A cool breeze rustles the ends of Junhui’s hair as he hikes up the straps of his backpack higher with one hand, the other carrying the daily hefty textbook. He crosses through Revelle Fountain, passing by students sipping on coffee as they wait to enter their respective classes, and heads toward the bookstore to kill time until his next lecture. Patting his pocket, he’s glad to note that he didn’t bring his wallet. That should make it impossible for him to buy needless trinkets, and most importantly, books that he won’t have time to read. The stack by his nightstand is already high enough that Soonyoung’s been knocking it over by accident twice now.

As he ascends the small slope that cuts through the busier part of the Student Square, he notices a familiar figure standing outside of one of the buildings. A cursory scan shows that it’s the Health Center. Worries knots his brows together as he gets off of the ramp and heads toward the front of the infirmary.

The boy has his back to Junhui, preoccupied with his phone, black hat pulled low over brown hair. The little Kermit doll attached to the zipper of his backpack swings back and forth as the owner’s shoulders shake with laughter over something he’s read on the screen. He doesn’t sense Junhui’s approach until the latter speaks up.

“Minghao, are you sick?”

Turning around, a brief look of surprise crosses his face, before it settles back to its natural expression. “Oh, hey.” Waving the phone toward the entrance with a sigh, he reassures the older, “I’m not sick. I just ran into a… complication.”

Junhui’s brows furrow again, this time in confusion. “A complication? What do you mean?” Aside from appearing like he wishes to still be floating around in dreamland, Minghao seems fine: no bandages, no scrapes, no limping.

His friend opens his mouth to start elaborating, but the automatic sliding door interrupts him at that moment, prompting them to turn around in reflex. 

A tall male ambles out, dark hair disheveled and sticking up in every which direction. His pants are dirty at the knees, and gauze covers both of his palms. It takes him a nano second to zero in on the pair standing nearby, and he hurries over, a magnificent smile breaking across his face to show pointed canines. That’s when recognition registers in Junhui’s mind, explaining why the apparent injured boy seemed so familiar. He’s part of Wonwoo’s band.

“Oh, good,” Minghao assesses before the singer gets a chance to say anything, looking him up and down. “You’re alive. Then I can leave now.” 

“Wait!” the taller male slides forward, almost bumping into the railing in his haste. “Do you want to go grab some coffee or something?” he asks, tone so hopeful it affects even a bystander like Junhui. 

But Minghao resists the puppy dog eyes with ease. He blinks. “No. I have class, and you already made me late.” Once more, he tries to leave, sidestepping the enthusiastic puppy.

Not that the latter doesn’t keep trying. For every move Minghao makes, he mirrors it, forcing the quickly frustrated boy to heave a sigh and stop to glare. 

“I can make it up to you! Do you like food?”

“Do I like food?” Minghao repeats. “What kind of stupid-ass question is that?” Shaking his head, he scoffs. “Never mind. I’m leaving. And _don’t—”_ He spins around to point at the rapper—“ _don’t_ follow me.” Junhui can practically see the drooping ears and tail, and he feels a twinge of sympathy. “Bye, Jun,” Minghao says with a short wave as he hops over the railing and starts moving in the other direction. “See you later.”

“Oh, um. Bye!”

An awkward pause wedges itself in the space between Junhui and the rapper. The situation would have already been plenty to give the former motivation to leave, but add to that the fact that the guy standing next to him knows Wonwoo, and Junhui is ready to flee. He should just back away slowly and return to the path leading to the bookstore as if nothing happened.

He’s just about to execute his plan, when he hears a sigh. So much sadness and disappointment weigh the sound down, it tugs at Junhui’s heartstrings. Biting his lip and closing his eyes, he can already taste the regret coating in the inside of his mouth. He turns around to ask, “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine,” comes the low and crestfallen reply. 

The boy is still staring longingly after Minghao’s retreating figure, and Junhui feels an urge to give him a comforting and sympathetic hug, or at least a little pat on the shoulder. He’s reminded of how Minghao caught the tall rapper gazing at him in the cafeteria last week. Maybe Junhui should say something, although truth be told, he’s not sure what he could say to make the situation any better. 

But then before he can form any sort of pep talk, the boy blinks out of the daze. He shoots up to his full height as he whips around to look at Junhui as if seeing him for the first time. Which is probably an accurate estimation considering how focused he’s been on Minghao during the entire exchange earlier.

“Moon Junnie!” the rapper exclaims with a grin, startling the owner of the name with the fervor. “Oh, my gosh! Hi! I’m Kim Mingyu.”

To say that Junhui is taken aback by the suddenness would be an understatement. Still, Junhui finds himself smiling in return and shakes the extended hand. “Hello, nice to meet you.”

“Me too!” Mingyu goes on, still very much excited. “Wonwoo’s been talking a lot about you.”

The name makes Junhui’s stomach do summersaults. He swallows, feeling his cheeks flush. “H-he has?”

“Well, no,” the taller admits, then quickly adds when he sees the twinkle in the older’s eyes dull, “But he’s not exactly subtle, even if he thinks he is. His lyrics all suspiciously contain the color purple now.” They both glance at the wayward strands lifted up by the breeze. “Guess he must like you a lot to think about you so much.”

Junhui’s cheeks are definitely aflame now. To try to hide, he lowers his face and shoves his free hand into the large pocket of the hoodie, all the while tapping the heel of his foot on the asphalt. “It’s um… I think he just likes the color.”

Mingyu eyes him with a small smile, but doesn’t comment further on the subject. Instead, he sighs in the direction Minghao left in. That gives Junhui somewhat of a reprieve to compose his thoughts. Amazing how he can still be affected by Wonwoo when the guy isn’t even within view. 

“What do you think,” Mingyu starts, eyes distant, “would be the best way of apologizing for dropping a book on someone’s head, and thank him for taking you to the nurse’s office after you fell down the stairs and almost knocked him over?” 

It takes a second for Junhui to make out the mumbled words, and once he does, he’s uncertain whether he heard right. “Huh?”

The boy lets out a self-depricating groan and shakes his head as if to clear the silly thoughts. “Never mind.” He perks up and offers a kind smile. “I gotta get going now, but I’m glad we got to talk to each other, finally. It was kinda weird having to stare at the back of your head all weekend.”

Junhui flushes, embarrassment tainting his cheeks again. He can only muster a low hum and nod to acknowledge Mingyu’s comment.

The boy goes on, “I would have come to say hi sooner, but Wonwoo got sulky, and Coups scolded both of us, so.” He shrugs, but smiles with unrestrained friendliness. “It was nice to meet you, Moon Junnie!” 

“Oh, right,” Junhui replies in a haste as Mingyu starts to leave, mind spinning. “Likewise, bye.”

 

 

“I think he likes you,” Junhui says that afternoon as he and Minghao walk out of the dance studio. He swings his bag to the front to grab two water bottles, handing one off to the younger as he takes a swig himself. The dejected look on Mingyu’s face that morning had continued to bother him throughout the day, and he just couldn’t not say something. Despite knowing that it was probably a lost cause—Minghao’s stubbornness is second to none, except maybe Jihoon—Junhui felt that he should advise him to be more careful about minding other people’s feelings. 

“So?” Minghao shrugs, “A lot of people like me. What makes him so special?”

Junhui recaps the water and muses, “You don’t have to be so mean to him.” Even as he keeps his eyes to the front to avoid bumping into the crowd of students starting to exit the buildings at the end of their lectures and discussion sessions, he can still feel Minghao’s sideway scowl boring into the side of his face. He risks a peek. _Yep._ Minghao is indeed glaring at him.

“Excuse me, but dropping a textbook on my head isn’t exactly what I’d call a good first impression.”

Everything about the dance major should tell him to abandon the subject: the daggers shot at him, the icy tone, and the tight grip around the water bottle. But Junhui’s never been good at following his own advice. So he pushes further. “But you can’t say that you hate him completely. I mean, you helped him get to the Health Center after he fell and even waited for him.”

“I’m not heartless,” the younger shoots back. “Besides, I couldn’t just leave him there to bleed. I was just a decent human being, there’s no need to be nice beyond that.”

“But he looked so sad when you left.”

This time, Minghao takes in a deep breath and releases it slowly through his nose. “Junhui, I think you should worry more about your own love life than mine.”

The retort is so unexpected, Junhui sputters for a coherent response. However, only weird and short bursts of sounds come out of his mouth for a good thirty seconds. The tips of his ears are burning, and he’s willing to bet that if he could see his reflection, his cheeks would sport a matching tone. In the end, he manages weakly, “Pfft, I have no love life. He and I aren’t even—” 

All the hard work and effort to utter some sort of intelligible comment come to naught as the words get stuck somewhere in his throat by shock. More specifically, by a certain brown-haired boy exiting the building they’re about to pass. _Of course_. Because the universe hates Junhui, the one person he has to run into right now is the one he’s desperately trying to deny he has feelings for. 

Poor Junhui doesn’t even realize he’s stopped dead in his tracts until Minghao doubles back and waves a hand over his face. “Earth to weirdo! Hey, snap out of it!”

The deer in headlights does indeed snap out of the daze, shaking his head and sending purple strands flying. “Sorry,” he blinks. “Uh, let’s go.” He grabs Minghao by the arm and attempts to flee before he can embarrass himself further; unfortunately, it is not fast enough. 

In the same instant that Minghao raises his brows and surveys the area to see what could have caused the reaction, Wonwoo looks over and spots him. Their eyes lock. A smirk appears instantly on the corner of Wonwoo’s mouth, erasing the previously blank expression. Junhui’s heart races, and he bites down onto his bottom lip, forcing his internal organs to stop melting.

“Oh.” Minghao snickers, muttering, “No love life, my ass.” Fortunately, the rest of the snarky comments remain unsaid when a taller boy comes into view. “Well, shit.”

“Be nice,” Junhui hisses.

Not a second too soon, Wonwoo makes his way over, confident swagger and aura capturing the attention of the nearby students. Junhui tries not to get unnerved by the unwanted scrutiny. It’s bad enough for his heart when Wonwoo racks his frame with that heated intensity, he doesn’t need additional eyes on him. 

“Hey, Pretty Boy.” An easy grin greets him; his heart skips a beat.

“Hello,” he squeaks out, all to aware of the eye roll coming from Minghao.

Amusement still painted over his expression, Wonwoo cuts his eyes from Junhui’s face to take in the school regulated sweatpants and t-shirt. “Gym?”

“Dance practice,” he corrects, shifting his weight from one foot to the other, fingers curling and releasing the strap over his shoulder.

There’s a hint of mischief in those dark eyes as his gaze slowly returns to linger over the fidgety kitten, a corner of his lips pulling higher. Junhui suppresses a shiver, tightening his hold on the strap. “You dance,” Wonwoo states, mirth unhidden. “Think you’d let me sit in on one of your sessions one day?”

Junhui’s eyes pop open as his lips part in shock. After a few blinks and continuing to see that infuriatingly arrogant grin, he repeats, “You want to… see me dance?”

“Sure,” Wonwoo’s smirk grows more teasing. “I think it’s only fair. You've seen me dance.”

Heat rushes to consume Junhui’s entire body as those indecent ‘dance moves’ flitter through his memory. He chews on his bottom lip to stop himself from… doing what? Yelling? Crying? Moaning? Maybe all three. Whatever it is, he’s determined to keep himself from making any sound, as he glares at Wonwoo. The latter merely smiles back with feigned innocence, quite enjoying the red cheeks and flustered attitude. 

It takes Mingyu clearing his throat with disgruntlement, and Minghao's annoyed groan to pull them out of the stare down.

“Sorry,” Wonwoo claims, although he looks anything but as he turns over his shoulder to address his friend. “Mingyu, this is Junhui.” To the Golden Boy, he says, “One of my roommates and bandmate.”

Mingyu beams as Junhui smiles and waves back, glad of the different and safer topic. “Hi. Glad to see you again,” he giggles, prompting the taller male to agree with a short, but abashed chuckle, probably recalling the circumstances of their first meeting. Junhui is happy to note that his hands are free of gauze, but there is a worryingly amount of bandaids around his fingers. 

“Mhm!” Mingyu nods, turning to Wonwoo. “We’ve already met!”

The other rapper’s face falls. “When?”

Sensing the sudden change in mood, Mingyu stammers, “Um, earlier today, when uh…” Pleading puppy dog eyes sweep around, seeking help. 

Junhui jumps in, taking that as his cue to interrupt. “Oh, sorry. This is Minghao,” he waves toward his crabby friend. “The three of us kind of ran into each other this morning.”

Quite rapidly, Wonwoo composes himself and nods toward the new acquaintance. “Hey.”

Minghao makes a noncommittal grunt, still eyeing Mingyu with a frown. Deeming the conversation no longer of interest, he pulls his phone out and starts typing. Meanwhile, Mingyu looks at him with narrowed eyes, and shakes his head, muttering something under his breath, before he petulantly retrieves his own phone to start playing with it. Junhui refrains from laughing out loud at the childish behavior.

At that moment, a ticklish sensation grabs his attention away from the immature second years. It takes him a second to register and associate the foreign feeling to the realization that it’s Wonwoo’s pinky finger hooking onto his. It’s such a small gesture, and yet it makes Junhui’s heart sing happily, recalling the way his hand had fitted against Wonwoo’s cooler fingers mere days ago. He tugs it playfully a couple times to get Junhui to look up from their joined pinkies and meet his gaze.

“Are you done for the day?” he asks casually.

Junhui nods. “Yeah, just about. I still need to return a couple books to Geisel before it closes, though.” He pats the side of the bag with his free hand.

Arching a brow, Wonwoo remarks, “Did you wait until the last day? Wow, you like living on the wild side, don’t you, Pretty Boy?”

“Hey!” He swats at Wonwoo’s arm in an attempt to stop the laughter, but ends up laughing himself. 

“Not to ruin the moment,” Minghao suddenly cuts in, “But something came up.” He indicates toward a text message. “Seokmin needs help.”

“Did he say with what?” Junhui wonders, taking a step toward the dance major as the latter starts to leave. “I’ll lend a hand.”

But Minghao shakes his head, “No, it’s fine. You say here with your…” Glancing at Wonwoo, he makes a face and gestures in their general direction. “Whatever you guys are.”  

Wanting to argue, Junhui opens his mouth, but no answer comes. He can’t blame Minghao for not knowing; he doesn’t even know himself what he and Wonwoo are.  So all he can do is say goodbye as the boy departs with a small wave toward them, and completely ignores Mingyu.

“Why does he hate me?” the second year asks once Minghao is out of earshot.

“Hard to like someone who hit you with a textbook,” Wonwoo deadpans. 

A miffed Mingyu shoots back, “I didn’t hit him on purpose! The book fell out of my grasp! And then I slipped trying to grab it.” 

“Mm,” seemingly mulling it over as if he hadn’t heard the story several times before today, the older singer comments, “Well, I guess you really fell for him, then.” 

Junhui doesn’t want to laugh, but a giggle still escapes because of the lame pun, while Mingyu groans and grimaces toward the man with the bad jokes. 

“Dude, stop. We keep telling you. You’re not funny.” 

Wonwoo shrugs, unbothered. He tosses his arm around his companion's shoulder. “Junhui thinks I’m funny.” 

The sudden close proximity makes Junhui’s insides melt. He does his best to keep his eyes focused on Mingyu and not wander to Wonwoo’s perfect face, mere inches from his own. From his periphery, though, the smug smirk still catches his attention. 

Mingyu shoots his bandmate a dirty look accompanied by a less than impressed grimace. “He’s probably the only one who does. What a perfect pair.”

“Oh, stop moping.”

The boy does not stop. In fact, the crease between his brows deepens, and the corners of his mouth tug downward a few more millimeters. “Whatever. I’m hungry.” He looks around them for a few seconds to decide in which direction his stomach wants to guide him. When he turns back to the pair, though, something crosses his expression, and the petulant child from earlier completely vanishes. He’s careful with his words, eyes darting to Junhui briefly before addressing Wonwoo, “Are you… Are you going tonight?”

Wonwoo freezes. Junhui not only sees his face harden, but he feels his body stiffening, too. Concern colors Junhui’s expression as he peers over at the boy next to him. Something glints in the depth of those penetrating eyes, but it disappears the moment Wonwoo blinks. That nagging feeling prods at Junhui again, the one that has bothered him since their very first meeting—that there is much more to Jeon Wonwoo than what everyone sees and knows, more than what he projects to the world.

The rapper's glare toward Mingyu is sharp, enough to convey his displeasure and for the younger to clam up immediately. It doesn’t take a genius to figure out that whatever Mingyu has been referring to is not a subject matter that Wonwoo wanted to discuss with Junhui present. The thought should sting, maybe even offend the latter. But Junhui only feels a wave of worry wash through him at the sight of Wonwoo’s reaction. It has to be something very significant to rattle the supposed badass to that extent.

Perhaps he’s playing with fire, but Junhui had never been good with heeding warnings. So he lifts his hand and pokes at Wonwoo’s cheek. His eyes are steady on the brunet as the latter blinks and turns to him. There’s a moment of bewilderment, but it quickly melts into another easy smile. Junhui’s stomach doesn’t do summersaults like usual upon seeing the sight. His brows are still furrowed, and he chews on his lip. 

Wonwoo softens his smile. It’s no more than a tiny lift of his lips, but it's genuine. Lightly, he nudges Junhui’s forehead with his. “What’s that face for?” he whispers, voice deep and smooth. “Are you that worried about library late fees?”

“Oh shoot!” Junhui startles, scrambling to reach for his phone. “What time is it?”

“Relax, kitten,” Wonwoo halts his panic with a gentle grasp around his hand. “It’s not closing for another hour.” 

“ _Whew_.” Junhui lets his shoulders sag in relief, and even smiles when Wonwoo chuckles. 

_Jeon Wonwoo, master of distraction_. The moment to ask about what Mingyu referred to and the reaction following it has passed. But at least he seems to have moved out of those dark thoughts from earlier. 

“Still, I think I should move along,” he says, hitching the strap higher on his shoulder. 

“It’s going to get dark soon,” Wonwoo assesses, flicking his gaze toward the sky. “I’ll walk with you.”

Arching a brow, Junhui retorts, “I’m perfectly capable of walking alone at night, thank you very much.”

The brunet is undeterred. “Is that a no?”

A pout forms on full lips. “No,” their owner mumbles, turning his back on the smirking jerk to hide the warm cheeks.

And so the two part ways with Mingyu and head for the library in the East side of campus. The short walk is filled with comfortable silence and the occasional comment about this or that. While Wonwoo replies with cheerfulness, Junhui can’t help wondering if he’s truly okay. They arrive to the building before Junhui can summon the courage to broach the subject. 

“The drop-off slot is over here,” Wonwoo says, tugging Junhui back by the elbow.

“I know, but I want to go inside and ask them to scan them right now to ease my mind. What if they don’t get to my books until tomorrow morning?”

Chuckling, his companion shakes his head. “You’re _really_ afraid of library fines.”

Junhui scrunches up his nose. “I don’t want my records to be tainted.” And with that, he leaves Wonwoo to laugh by himself in the lobby and heads for the nearest checkout line.

Once he is reassured that his account is free from late fees, he walks outside to find Wonwoo sitting at one of the benches, staring off at the twilight sky. Around them, lights behind windows have started to flicker on, basking this corner of the square in a soft and hazy glow. It’s no secret that Wonwoo is a very good looking young man. But in this instance, he seems to have come straight out of Junhui’s imagination, a mythical creature only visible under the ephemeral and silvery glimmer of moonlight. Junhui knows, however, that Jeon Wonwoo is made of flesh and bones. That the illusion of mystery and fantasy has more to do with the reflection of lightbulbs than the moon.

The thing, though, is that Junhui is a literature major. He’s learned to look and find metaphors and imagery for years now. Consequently, telling himself to ignore the the sight before him would be near impossible. The shadowy backdrop, the brightness of the street lamp, Wonwoo sitting in the center. 

Cautiously, Junhui approaches. The rustling of the gym bag alerts the seated boy of his arrival, and he glances up, small smile tugging at his lips. 

“All done, Pretty Boy?”

Junhui sees past it, noticing the emotions swirling behind the playfulness. A suffocating weight sits on his chest. With some hesitance, he raises his hand sets it on Wonwoo’s shoulder. He squeezes once.

“Are you… okay?”

The easy smile slips, but Wonwoo does a very good job masking it. He cocks his head to the side and takes Junhui’s hand into his. “Sure. I’m not the one who almost got fined for returning books late.”

It’s distracting. The way the cool touch envelops his palm, the addicting strokes against his skin, how familiar the action now seems to be. But Junhui tries again. “You just seem pensive.”

He receives another smile, expression smooth and unreadable. Wonwoo tugs him closer, their knees touching, while his free hand indicates toward the darkening sky. “Have you ever been to the roof of the library?”

Shaking his head, he answers, “No. I thought students aren't allowed up there.”

The smirk that Wonwoo flashes should worry him, but instead a thrill shoots up his spine. “Only if you’re caught, kitten,” he says wisely, standing up. “Come on.”

Hands tightly clasped, the boys return to the library, walking past the staff about to leave for the night. A scary thought occurs to Junhui then.

“How are we going to leave if they’re closing soon?” he asks in a hushed tone as Wonwoo leads him toward the staircase.

The latter offers a cheeky grin. “Guess we’ll just have to spend the night together.” No sooner have the words left his mouth that the flow of blood rushes to Junhui’s cheeks. His stomach fills with butterflies, and he sucks in a breath. Only for Wonwoo to chuckle with delight, shaking their joined hands together and say, “You’re so gullible, Pretty Boy.”

“Mean,” Junhui mutters with a pout and narrowed eyes.

The sight is too cute for Wonwoo not to respond. He runs a hand through the purple locks, bringing their faces closer, and enjoys watching the boy’s breath hitch from the proximity. “Promise I’ll have you home before midnight, Cinderella.” He pulls away slightly to see the reaction, head titled, smirk lingering. “Deal?”

At this point, was there really a need to ask? The answer should be more than obvious. “Okay.”

Contrarily to Junhui’s expectations, gaining access the roof turns out to be a piece of cake. A few flights of stairs, a couple doors, a passcode that Wonwoo apparently knows, and there they are, seven stories high. If he weren’t so scared of getting caught, he would be very impressed by the boy’s resources and the sight of the vast sky above them. 

“Wait here for a second,” Wonwoo says, then dashes off somewhere. 

A seed of worry begins to grow in the pit of Junhui’s stomach once his companion disappears from view. Wonwoo wouldn’t abandon him here, right? Before the seed could sprout leaves, footsteps echo behind him. Wonwoo returns with a bundle in his arms, which is revealed to be a blanket as he spreads it out on the ground. Siting down, he pats the space next to him to indicate for Junhui to do the same.

“Something tells me you’ve been here before,” Junhui comments as he sets his bag aside and joins the singer.

Wonwoo chuckles. “What tipped you off?”

“Oh, you know,” he grins and bumps their shoulders together. “Just a hunch.”

They exchange quiet smiles, then lapse into silence, mesmerized by the velvet sky and points of twinkling lights. Indistinct voices from students and faculty drift though the air, carried by the wind. There’s laughter and shouts, footsteps and car engines. But everything seems so far away. It’s as if they’ve found a magical place where time stops for them, allowing the pair to watch as the rest of world keeps on moving without them. Junhui doesn’t think he’d mind.

“Thank you,” he whispers, afraid of disturbing the little pocket of magic. 

From the corner of his eye, he notes Wonwoo cracking a smile. “You wouldn’t be thanking me if you knew the motive behind the action.”

“Try me,” he nudges the rapper's shoulder again.

The smile is a little brighter. With a sigh, he lays back against the blanket and folds his arms behind his head. “If you’re here, then I can’t do anything reckless.”

Junhui’s eyes bulge. “More reckless than sneaking onto the roof?”

A deep and rumbling laugh fills the quiet air a few seconds before Junhui’s hand is encased in a protective hold. There’s a short, but tense pause as Wonwoo gazes at him, as if searching for something. He’s not sure what the rapper is looking for, but eventually he says, “I know I promised to get you back to your apartment before midnight, but if you want to leave before then, tell me.”

Once again, Wonwoo's managed to dodge the question. Whatever is bothering him, he's not ready to reveal it any time soon. Logical Junhui should take the chance to return home and get started on his daily assignments, to be as involved as little as possible in order to remain coolheaded in this little game of theirs. But he can't ignore the statement prior, though. What kind of recklessness is Wonwoo capable of? Apparently, he had no qualms about breaking someone's nose over a little skirmish. In short, Junhui is too worried to leave.

Thus, instead of listening to reason, he says, “Who would make sure you behave if I’m gone, though?”

The joke melts the tension, and Wonwoo chuckles. A spark of mischief flashes soon after however, making Junhui’s stomach do flips again. The already deep voice lowers even more, becoming doubling more enticing. “For argument’s sake, what would you do if I decided to misbehave, hm?” 

It suddenly dawns on him that they’re completely alone up here, and Wonwoo is laying _very_ close to him. Their fingers are still clasped around each other’s, and a pale thumb is stroking over his skin. Trying to reign in his pounding heart, Junhui swallows thickly before answering with as much fake bravado as he can muster.

“Then I wouldn’t share any of my snacks.”

Wonwoo bursts into a fit of laughter at the answer, relaxing his companion and prompting a pleased grin to stretch across full lips. 

“You’re cute, kitten,” he says, poking the thigh next to his elbow. 

“You say that a lot.”

“So what? Are you going to try to prove me wrong?” Wonwoo challenges, arching a brow.

Junhui purses his lip, having no witty retort to counteract on such short notice. “I’m not Jihoon,” he says, recalling all the occasions his flatmate had glared every time someone used the adjective to describe him. A giggle escapes, catching Wonwoo’s attention.

“Jihoon. Lee Jihoon?”

“Yeah, you know him?”

A shrug. “We've had a few classes together,” he replies, then adds, “He’s not cute, though. He’s basically a condensed version of Satan without the horns and tail.”

The comment is so unexpected, Junhui can’t help laughing. “He’s not that bad.”

Wonwoo narrows his eyes. “You’ve probably managed to stay on his good side thus far.”

“Or I’m just that lovable,” Junhui counters with a charming grin.

The other pretends to shake his head in exasperation, but the smile gives him away. “If you say so, Pretty Boy.”

Eventually, Junhui forgoes reason altogether and relents. He leans back to lay on the blanket next to Wonwoo, staring up at the night sky. It’s a little chilly, but Junhui feels warm, probably because their shoulders and sides are touching. Or maybe it’s just because he’s here on an empty roof with Jeon Wonwoo, a mysterious boy with many secrets but a tender smile and gentle voice, telling him all about the latest book on the Best Sellers List. 

 


	6. Routine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The thing about routines is how easily they can get derailed.

Equipped with a mug of coffee, Junhui enters the quiet lecture hall. Being an early riser, he's always up and about around seven, regardless of the time of his first scheduled courses. Most people would stay in their room, but Junhui liked showing up to class before anyone else. Mainly for the silence. He’d take a seat in his usual spot and then make use of the free time to read or do homework. It keeps him from being squished by the rush, and guarantees he’ll never be late. It’s a nice routine.

But like most, there ought to be a few kinks thrown in once a while.

This particular aberration takes the form of a body slumped over a pulled-up desk, head buried in folded arms, with just brown tuffs of hair sticking up. A familiar messenger bag is tucked under the seat, partially hidden by the long legs.

An amused smile tugs the corner of Junhui’s mouth as he watches the sleeping boy for a few seconds. Then he counts the rows from his usual seat to the one Wonwoo is currently occupying. Sure enough: three rows. 

He could pretend not to see him. He could pretend not to recognize him. He could pretend his heart doesn’t race from the mere proximity. He could do a lot of things, but he chooses to quietly descend the steps and walk into the row where the bad boy slumbers peacefully. As quietly as he can manage, he slips off his backpack and settles into the adjacent seat. Wonwoo stirs slightly, but doesn’t wake up. He smacks his lips and nuzzles into the nest of sweater covered arms.

Junhui props his cheek on a fist and observes his companion with fascination. Without the fear of being caught staring, Junhui lets his gaze linger over the sharp features, currently smoothed out by slumber. The normally piercing gaze is now hidden behind closed lids, and he looks almost… innocent. A giggle threatens to escape, and Junhui quickly bites down on my lip. But it’s true, though. It’s amazing how the alleged troublemaker can look this disarming asleep. His fingers itch to slip through the locks, brushing them away from his forehead and eyes. But he's afraid it'll wake Wonwoo up. More than that, he's afraid of getting caught staring dreamily at the bad boy. So he resorts to observing the contrast in expressions.

Once the novelty wears off, somewhat, curiosity starts to emerge. Mainly about the reason behind Wonwoo's presence in the lecture hall an hour before class. Moreover, why is he sleeping in such an uncomfortable position? How long has he been here? Junhui’s taken pride in being the first to arrive every single morning, and until today, there’s never been anyone but him. He can only hope that the reason behind the oddity isn’t something unfortunate.

Whatever the answers are, however, they’ll have to wait until Wonwoo wakes up. So to pass the time, Junhui sips on his coffee and pulls out his o-chem homework.

Lately, it seems as though the more time he spends with Wonwoo, the more questions accumulate. There are occasional answers, too, of course. Like knowing that Wonwoo double majors in literature and music, explaining why he and Jihoon had had so many classes together. During one dinner, Junhui learned about Wonwoo’s aversion to seafood and liking of veggie snacks. Wonwoo’s also a cat person, based on the fond looks he had casted on the lost pet they came across a couple days ago on their way to class. Their birthday dates were also exchanged at some point. Basically, when Junhui’s questions concerned trivial facts, Wonwoo’s answers came readily. Dig a little deeper, and the rascal would find a way to distract the Golden Boy from a direct (or any) answer.

Such as the night they spent on the roof. 

Neither one of them had wanted to leave, even to get food. So Junhui had appeased their rumbling stomachs with the abundance of snacks he constantly carried. They had just finished their ‘dinner’ and the heated discussion over the best brands of snacks, when Junhui received a text message from his brother. After replying to the playful message, it dawned on him that he had no idea what Wonwoo’s family situation is like. Thinking it’s a safe enough topic, he asked.

“Do you have any siblings?”

The twitch of the eyebrow is quick and disappears almost instantlyIy. If Junhui hadn’t been staring intently at Wonwoo’s face prior to inquiring the seemingly harmless question, he would have missed it. Wonwoo looks at the dark horizon as he answers, “Yeah. A younger brother.”

Unsure of how to respond to the somber tone, Junhui bites his lip and lets his gaze linger on Wonwoo’s unreadable expression for a moment longer. They’re sitting side by side, but there’s a small gap between them. Until this moment, it didn’t seem to matter. However, the space feels like a canyon dividing them now. Wonwoo closing himself off is visible in the way his knees are pulled to his chest, and his shoulders tense up. It doesn’t take a genius to figure out that Junhui’s hit a sensitive matter by asking about siblings.

Surprisingly, Wonwoo turns to face him, expression serene. “Do you want to go for a ride?”

Junhui blinks, wondering if he misheard him. “A ride,” he repeats. “On your motorcycle?”

Wonwoo smirks, a glint flashing as his gaze dips downward briefly. “Unless you had a different kind of riding in mind.”

Despite the cool breeze, Junhui’s cheeks are ablaze. Wide eyed, he opens and closes his mouth like a fish out of water, mind going blank. He stammers for some sort of answer that will keep him from digging a hole in the cement and hiding for eternity. A squeak mingles with the nervous laughter. “No, uh,” he clears his throat, face burning all the more because of the way his companion keeps watching him with unrestrained amusement, chin propped on a fist. “I mean, it’s kind of late to be out on the road, isn’t it?” 

A brow is quirked as that familiar smirk stretches into a full grin. “So you really do have a curfew?”

“Hmph!” 

Wonwoo laughs at the sulking boy, but reaches over to stroke his red cheek affectionately, gaze fond. “Don’t pout, kitten.” When he shows no sign of following direction, Wonwoo laughs again and tugs on the errant strands of hair dancing in the wind.

The habit of playing with the dyed locks causes Junhui to perk up and smile as he teases, “Have you developed an appreciation for the color purple, by any chance?” 

Wonwoo flickers his eyes away from the silky hair to focus on its owner. “What makes you say that?”

“Oh, you know,” he shrugs, head tilted to the side as his smile grows. “Just the way you’ve been staring and playing with my hair since the night we met, and your apparent liberal inclusion of the color in your lyrics?” He lifts a brow, a silent fact check. It’s not that he doesn’t believe Mingyu. He just wants to flip the tables on the teasing badass for a change.

The latter seems confused for a second, if not slightly alarmed, brows furrowed. “How—Mingyu.” He shakes his head with a sigh, expression relaxing. “That kid.” Scoffing, he turns his face to the side, allowing Junhui to study his profile. The lighting is hazy, but it doesn’t diminish the very slight hue spreading across his neck and up to the cheek.

With confidence coursing through his veins, Junhui chuckles. “So it’s true?” It’s the excitement that causes him to lean closer and peer at his companion’s face. He’s too giddy to be mindful of the position he’s put himself in. 

For that reason, when Wonwoo whirls around and grabs him by the waist, nothing but a squeak escapes his lips before his breath gets stuck in his throat altogether. His heart leaps out of his chest when the side of Wonwoo’s face brushes against his. He’s as stiff as a board when the low hum echoes right by his ear, the deep sound making his skin tingle. Slender fingers drum rhythmically against his waist, dangerously close to the stretch of skin that's uncovered by the hem of the shirt, ridden up by the unexpected motion.

“It’s amazing how inspiring the color’s been,” the musician admits, warm breath blowing over Junhui’s heated skin. The tips of his ears must be glowing by now. The poor, willing victim chews on his bottom lip, hands twisted in the other's jacket, fingers curling and relaxing in the fabric. He takes in shallow breaths. Wonwoo continues, voice so enticing and alluring, it leads to Junhui’s stomach doing flips. “Maybe you’d like another private show, Pretty Boy?” 

Despite his best efforts, a whimper manages to slip out. Wonwoo smiles, lips grazing the shell of Junhui’s ear. It certainly doesn’t help bring down the quickly rising fever when Wonwoo brushes the tip of his nose along Junhui’s jaw. He shivers; Wonwoo chuckles.

This is a very sticky situation. One that could land him in serious trouble if he’s unable to step on the breaks and stop himself from diving into temptation. So he takes in a deep breath in hopes of clearing his head, doing his best to ignore the taste of the troublemaker swirling in the air. 

“I thought—” A thick swallow. “I thought you wanted to go for a ride.”

“Mm. Are you up for it? Or would you prefer I take you home?” 

Too afraid to ask him to specify which apartment he refers to as ‘home’, Junhui resigns to a simple nod. 

The satisfaction resounds in the deep timber of a chuckle. “Alright, kitten. Let’s go.” 

Going so far as to say that Junhui has grown used to riding on the back of a motorcycle would be generous. But at least he can be proud of himself for not jumping out of his skin the moment Wonwoo turns the ignition on. The roar of the engine rips through the silent night, drawing a few sour looks from the older faculty members leaving their offices and retrieving their cars parked nearby. Either Wonwoo doesn’t notice, or he simple doesn’t care enough to show a reaction. 

He takes the spare helmet that’s now become Junhui’s and gently sets it over his head, sure fingers clicking the clasp underneath his chin. After donning his own protective gear, he readjusts Junhui’s arms around his waist to make sure the latter won’t fall off. Then they head out.

It’s taken a few rides, but the scaredy-cat can now keep his eyes open to admire the view whooshing by. The pounding of his heart is still partially from fear, but the adrenaline rushing through his veins is definitely as a result of the thrill. Arms clasped tightly over Wonwoo’s stomach, he leans against the strong back, grinning to himself at the rush. 

As they travel farther away from campus, the surrounding gradually changes from tall buildings and large streets, to quaint houses and country roads. It’s difficult to see much of anything else, when he has to depend on the dim and yellow street lamps. However, when Wonwoo stops at a deserted intersection, Junhui can faintly make out the distinct smell of the ocean. He tries to crane his neck side to side, but the rows of houses are blocking the view that could potentially overlook the beach. 

It takes a few minutes, but eventually, Wonwoo stops and dismounts. Still not explaining, he takes Junhui’s hand and leads him down the dirt path lining the back of the residences. 

“Um, are you sure this is okay?” he whispers, eyes darting around them. 

From here, he can hear the muted crashes of the waves. He guesses they’re headed to the cliffs. But if that’s the case, then it’s even more imperative that they don’t get caught. Trespassing onto the roof of the school library is one thing. Trespassing a coast guard station only open from dusk till dawn is a whole different matter. They could get expelled from this little adventure. Fear is definitely pumping through his system now.

Wonwoo squeezes his trembling hand. “We won’t stay long,” he says. “But looking at the ocean at night is a marvelous sight that you shouldn’t deprive yourself of witnessing.”

He’s still wary, but the tight and comforting grip around his fingers does ease the tension slightly. 

They arrive at the fence, and Wonwoo fumbles with the latch. Before Junhui can even suggest that they give up and come back in the daytime, it clicks open.

“Do you study lock-picking in your spare time or something?”

Wonwoo offers a chuckle, taking the lead once more to navigate the path lined with wild trees and bushes. “Come here often enough, and you realize that no one bothers to use the lock.” He sidesteps a rock and nudges Junhui to take a right. “Did you think all the idiots who throw parties out here know how to pick locks, too?”

Junhui’s eyes widen. “People throw parties out here?”

The naive inquiry full of surprise and awe causes Wonwoo to laugh. “Such a goody-two-shoes. Your friends really do shelter you, Pretty Boy.” Glancing over, he comments, “Imagine my surprise seeing you in the audience of the festival.”

At the mere memory, Junhui feels a rush running down his spine. “I actually didn’t want to go at first,” he admits sheepishly, flicking his eyes to the side to gauge the singer’s reaction. “But they were insistent that it’d be fun, so I went.”

A low chuckle fills the silence. “Aren’t you glad you did?” he teases, bumping their shoulders together. 

Junhui’s soft laughter joins the deeper sound. “I suppose it wasn’t all bad.”

They continue to walk further down the path until the sound of waves beating against rocks becomes unmistakable. The vast sky twinkles with stars, glowing from the gentle and cool moonlight. A chilly breeze rises from the bottom of the cliffs, carrying with it the crisp scent of the sea. Junhui takes in a lungful as they stop a few yards away from the ledge. 

Sparkles dance on the black and calm water, an illusion of peace and serenity. Following the rolling tide with his eyes, he watches as the waves gain more power and speed the closer they approach the shore, before crashing against the sand and the rocks, sending salty spray in the air. He listens to the rhythmic push and pull of nature, feeling the salt at the tip of his tongue, coating his skin.

“It’s really beautiful,” he breathes out, “But really scary.”

_Wonwoo is like… Like an ocean! Nice to look at, but deadly if you go too deep!_ Is that not how Seokmin has described Wonwoo, Junhui muses with a small smile, bitting onto his lip to keep himself from giggling when he senses the cool finger stroking the back of his hand. 

“As are most things,” Wonwoo replies.

Momentarily confused, Junhui furrows his brows and glances over.

The other grins, “Are the most beautiful and fragrant roses not the ones with the most thorns?” 

“Mm,” Junhui mulls it over.

“You’re the exception, though.” The playful tone makes Junhui arch a brow, and Wonwoo’s grin widens. “You’re not scary at all, kitten.”

Junhui’s cheeks are warm from the indirect compliment, but he does his best to scoff and roll his eyes. “Pfft. You just haven’t seen me get mad, Jeon Wonwoo.”

Instead of getting intimidated, Wonwoo laughs. “What, are you going to threaten not to share your snacks again?” 

“Hmph!” Even as he pokes Wonwoo’s side, the two are laughing quietly.

Wonwoo pulls his hand away to wrap his arm around Junhui’s shoulder. The two stay to watch the ocean for a couple more minutes, then safely make it back to campus. 

The lecture hall is very quiet as he works now, mind spinning back to that evening, a small smile slowly making its away across his lips.

A while later, in the midst of drawing out a benzene ring, cool fingertips graze his temple and push back a lock of hair. Slightly startled, he lifts his gaze away from the equation to look at his neighbor. Wonwoo’s head is tucked into the crook of his elbow as he lays there, smiling lazily at Junhui. The only adjective the latter can think to describe half-awake Wonwoo is  _soft_. Warmth spreads throughout Junhui’s chest, and he can’t help returning the smile.

His voice is thick with sleep as he starts on the teasing, eyes flickering to the problem set. “What a good student you are, Moon Junnie. Such a beautiful sight to wake up, to.” 

Even though he knows it’s an empty compliment meant to turn him red, his stubborn heart still insists on pounding, sending blood rushing to his cheeks. He gathers what little wryness he has to roll his eyes. “Good morning to you, too, sunshine.” 

“Sunshine, huh?” the other chuckles, deep and warm. “Does that make you my moonlight, then?”

Throwing him a look, he tries his best to keep the grin from spreading, but it doesn’t work very well. “The day hasn’t even officially started, and you’re already so cheesy.”

Wonwoo laughs in response. Then as if it’s an insurmountable task, he straightens up and stretches, looking very much like a great cat. Or maybe a lion would be more accurate. He rubs at his face, then runs a hand through his hair roughly. Junhui lets out a giggle at the sight, inching over to flatten down the errant strands. Wonwoo leans into the touch, drowsiness quickly making room for mischief. 

To save himself from any more teasing, Junhui asks casually, “Why were you sleeping here instead of your bed?”

“Because Mingyu’s an asshole.”

Fair brows arch questioningly. 

Wonwoo lets out a dry laugh and elaborates, “His damn cake mixer woke up the whole apartment at five in the morning, and it didn’t look like he was going to stop any time soon. I figured I might as well come here and sleep.”

Junhui isn’t sure what about that story surprises him more. The fact that Mingyu enjoys baking at five in the morning, for whatever reason, or Wonwoo’s strange decision making. Since both topics are equally confusing, he asks about one after the other.

“Why would Mingyu be awake and baking so early in the day?”

Laying back on his folded arm, he manages to shrug. “I don’t know. He likes cooking, though, so he’s probably branching out. God knows why it had to be at the crack of dawn.” To punctuate his gripe, he yawns into his fist. 

“Curious,” Junhui muses, and Wonwoo agrees. “So what about you?”

“What about me?”

“Why did you come here to sleep? The student lounges have couches and sofas,” he points out. “Surely, you’d be more comfortable sleeping there.” 

“Mm,” Wonwoo hums thoughtfully, then he shrugs. “That’s true. But I wanted to catch a fairy.”

“A fairy?” the other echoes, bewildered. _Is he still half-asleep?_ His eyes are open, and he certainly looks awake.

“Yeah.” Smirking, the brunet props his elbow on the desk and cups his chin, eyes steadily watching Junhui. “A fairy with purple hair, doe eyes, and—” his gaze flickers downward for a second, then returns to hold eye contact, “soft lips.”

Said doe eyes widen, then blink, as those claimed soft lips part in disbelief. Heat rushes through his body so fast, he’d be amazed if he’s not running a fever. Meanwhile, Wonwoo seems very pleased with himself for eliciting such a reaction. 

Junhui narrows his eyes and puffs out his cheeks. Then he mutters, “I wouldn’t sound so cocky. You haven’t caught him yet.”

Unfazed, Wonwoo merely smirks. “All in due time, Junnie.” 

As much shamelessness and confidence as Wonwoo presents, it soon dwindles as the clock ticks on and students start to crowd into the auditorium. The previously quiet atmosphere gradually fills up with gossip and zippers pulled, desks and seats slamming. Junhui neglects the boy in the next seat in favor of replacing the homework on his desk for his literature notebook. By the time he glances over, Wonwoo has scooted down in his seat, head lolled sideways, eyes drifting close.

Without thinking, Junhui reaches over and shakes him. “Wonwoo! Now’s not the time to count sheep.”

The boy cracks an eye open, but doesn’t sit up. “For your information, I was counting kittens. One of them had purple fur.” 

Junhui rolls his eyes. “How do you intend on maintaining your top spot on the grading scale if you can’t even stay awake long enough to hear the professor’s ‘good morning’, hm?” 

His eyes are closed again, but the smug grin is dazzling. “Well, I am a genius, but thank you for worrying about me, Pretty Boy.” 

Despite what he says, though, when the professor comes through the door and hooks up his laptop to the projector, Wonwoo does manage to sit up in his seat. It’s clear, though, that he’s having a very difficult time staying alert. 

“Are you sure Mingyu’s cake mixer is the only reason you’re in zombie-mode?” Junhui wonders, leaning over the divider in order to be heard without having to speak at full volume.

The very good looking zombie chuckles. “That, and the fact that I’m not exactly a morning person.” He eyes Junhui, grin turning wry. “You’re an early bird, aren’t you?”

“Yep!” he affirms with a nod.

Wonwoo laughs at the quick reply, hand grazing Junhui's chin. “So damn chirpy and positive.” 

“Here, Grumpy.” Junhui offers him the traveling mug with coffee. “It’d be a waste if you come to class only to miss out on the whole lecture.”

There’s no complaint, but he chuckles quietly as he takes the mug. “Thanks.” 

For the remainder of the class, Wonwoo manages to stay awake, although it’s debatable if the reason is the caffeine, or his amusement every time he purposely brushes his fingers against Junhui’s as they share the coffee. 

“When’s your next class, Pretty Boy?” he asks as they exit the lecture hall together. 

Junhui doesn’t fail to notice the looks they’re attracting, nor does he miss the way the crowd does its best to keep out of their way. Guess it’s hard not to feel intimidated by the imposing presence. He’s still not quite able to believe that he’s holding a normal conversation with the guy. It’s one thing to have a good time with him when it’s just the two of them. It’s a little different when the crowd reminds him of their very contrasting appearances and reputations.

“Um, not until 10:30,” he answers. 

“Great. Let’s go.” Once again, his hand is taken prisoner, and Wonwoo leads him away. 

Before he can protest that he can’t leave campus on some impromptu date, they stop at the little market around the block. The smell of freshly baked goods and roasted coffee beans greet them the moment the door is opened. It’s a very comforting fragrance that makes Junhui smile contently. Turns out, Wonwoo wants to buy him a muffin as thanks for the coffee, which he offers to split, since Wonwoo didn’t finish the caffeinated beverage by himself. In the end, the Golden Boy gets his way, and giggles happily as he watches his companion eat the pastry with a feigned expression of petulance. 

Little did either know that it would become the beginning of a new routine.

 

For the next couple weeks, Junhui would sit with Wonwoo during their morning lecture. Occasionally, the latter would be dozing off when Junhui enters the hall, a result of another sleepless night back at the apartment due to one of Mingyu’s cooking or baking adventures. However, regardless of whether he finds a sleeping Wonwoo or not, the two would share Junhui’s coffee throughout the eighty minutes lecture. Afterward, Wonwoo would buy a pastry at the corner market that the two would split as they talk and laugh until they need to part ways for the rest of their classes. 

 

It’s at some point during that fortnight that Junhui comes to realize how much he enjoys spending time with Wonwoo, even if they’re not particularly doing anything. He is walking down Library Walk one afternoon, during the lull in the day when most classes are still in session, which leaves the campus rather deserted. He wouldn’t even be out and about if it weren’t for his chem lab ending sooner than expected. While he contemplates whether he should start on the lab report immediately or wait until Hansol comes over around dinnertime, a figure laying on the grass lawn catches his attention.

Students taking naps on the cushy grass under the shades of the large trees isn’t something new. He couldn’t even count the number of times he’s come across Soonyoung sprawled out on his back, catching up on sleep after an all-nighter. For that reason, Junhui is just about to shrug off the presence of another guy napping, but he stops mid-stride. It’s not just any guy. 

Junhui finds it amusing how quickly he’s come to recognized Wonwoo’s sleeping silhouette. Biting back a grin, he slings the strap of his backpack off of his shoulders and takes a seat against the closest tree trunk. Wonwoo lays a couple feet away, using his jacket as a makeshift pillow, while his messenger bag is left unattended by his feet. From the positions, it seemed as if the badass simply threw the bag down and collapsed on the grass, shielded from the burning sun by the thick canopy of leaves. There's a pocket-sized book by his elbow, though, so he probably dozed off while reading. The cool, gentle breeze and singing branches contribute to a very effective lullaby. Even Junhui, who’s been alternating his attention between his reading and observing Wonwoo, finds himself stifling a few yawns.

About an hour into the peaceful afternoon, campus stirs into life again. Doors to discussion sessions and lecture halls bang open, voices and laughter drift through the air, accompanied by the steady rhythm of footsteps and rolling wheels. The sudden activity breaks Junhui out of the grogginess, and he stretches. His companion, on the other hand, seems completely oblivious to the stares and whispers directed at them. 

He supposes that the scene is a little odd to most. After all, the campus bad boy taking a catnap mere feet away from the goodie-two-shoes isn’t something you see everyday, if at all. 

Among the crowd walking across the lawn—and making sure to keep a good distance from the sleeping lion—two particular faces stand out. Junhui chuckles and offers a small wave toward Seungkwan and Hansol as the younger cautiously walk around to arrive at Junhui’s side.

After exchanging a few pleasantries, and asking about Wonwoo, Hansol suggests, “You should draw a mustache on him.”

While the two get into a muffled giggle fit, Seungkwan rolls his eyes and shakes his head. “What are you, ten?”

Hansol merely shrugs. “It’d be funny, though.”

“I can’t do that,” Junhui whispers back. “What if he wakes up? I’d be toast.”

“Oh, good,” Seungkwan exclaims, “I’m glad to see that at least you still remember he’s not harmless.”

“Stop worrying!” Hansol says, lopsided grin stretching wide as he slaps his fellow first year. “Jun’s been doing great! It’s been like, what, almost three weeks? And he’s still going strong.”

“Thank you,” he replies with exaggeration, causing the two of them to laugh again. 

Seungkwan makes a face, side-eyeing the pair of weirdos. “So you’re really not falling for him?”

The direct question catches him off-guard, and his expression falters. “N-no, we’re just friends.”

The music major quirks a brow. “Uh-huh. So all the rumors about your nightly escapades are false?”

Eyes bulging, Junhui gapes. “How did you know about that?”

“So it’s true?!”

“Shhhhh!” Junhui jumps forward and clasps his hand over Hansol’s mouth, practically cradling the boy's head against his chest as he looks over his shoulder to make sure Wonwoo hasn’t been roused up by the yelling.

“Sorry,” Hansol mumbles behind the constraint, eyes apologetic but still snickering. “I didn’t know you were so bold, man!” 

“It’s not…” Junhui chews on his lip. “You need to get your head out of the gutter, Hansolie,” he scolds as he fixes the disheveled bangs, but the boy only grins. 

“But you and Seungkwan love me anyway,” comes the cheeky reply, which receives very different reactions. 

While Junhui laughs despite himself, Seungkwan scowls and side-eyes his boyfriend. “Goodness knows why,” he mutters, but there’s a small smile. 

In the end, the couple head off to class, saying goodbye to the literature major. “I’ll head to your place around six,” Hansol says, “That works, right?”

Junhui nods. “It’s fine. Just remember to actually bring your lab manual this time.”

Once the rush subsides, the blanket of calmness settles over campus once more. Junhui looks around, making sure they’re alone again, then takes his phone out. He might be too cowardly to draw a mustache on Wonwoo’s face, but he still feels playful. Stifling the giggles, he shuffles closer to the sleeping boy and takes a few pictures. 

It’s in the midst of the spontaneous photoshoot that Wonwoo’s eyes snap open. The sneaky photographer yelps, scrambling to get away. But he’s no match for the camera's subject. Wonwoo leaps forward and pins his shoulders to the grass with a thump. He hovers above him with a satisfied smirk, hair falling over that godly forehead.

“Did no one tell you that it’s rude to take pictures of people when they’re asleep?” Wonwoo questions, face descending dangerously too close to Junhui’s flushed one.

The latter is very aware of the way Wonwoo straddles him, the weight setting over his lower region, the thighs pressed tightly on either side of him. The usually cool hands are now burning through the fabric of his shirt, and he swallows around the lump in his throat. His heart is pounding so hard, it displaces the row of white buttons. Junhui has never felt more thankful for the lull in foot traffic. If anyone catches them in this compromising position, he would die of embarrassment before any disciplinary action could take effect.

But the grinning jerk knows. Mischief flashes in his eyes as he stares down at the boy squirming beneath him. “If you wanted a picture of me, all you have to do was ask, kitten.”

Junhui swallows again, blinking fast, trying to come up with a retort that won’t disintegrate before it makes it out of his thoughts. “Why… Why is it that you’re able to sleep through the three o’clock rush, but wake up the moment the shutter of a phone goes off?”

“I have my priorities straightened out,” he answers slyly. 

A nervous laugh tumbles out of Junhui’s lips as he glances around once more. “Okay, if I apologize for sneaking pictures of you asleep, will you get off of me?”

“Tempting,” Wonwoo replies, head tilted and grin stretching wider, “But I rather like the view from here.”

Junhui whines and purses his lip. Somehow, it’s enough for Wonwoo take pity on him—all in good time, too, because a couple more seconds and his heart would have exploded—and Junhui finds himself sitting up opposite of the bad boy.

While he tries to pick the green blades and white wildflowers out of his hair, Wonwoo has managed to swipe his phone. “Hey! Give it back!”

Unfortunately, Wonwoo holds it out of his reach. “Relax, kitten. I’m not going to touch any of your personal stuff.”

Junhui drops his arm and stares. “Then what are you doing?”

“Deleting those awful pictures.”

“What!” Resuming the attempt to retrieve the device, he leans forward, hand grasping around the slope of Wonwoo’s shoulder. “Don’t delete them!”

Still holding the phone away, Wonwoo keeps Junhui at bay with an arm against his chest. “Give me a good reason.”

Junhui gnaws at his lip, and his shoulders slump. He refuses to look into Wonwoo’s eyes as he fidgets with the grass. “Because…” he mumbles. “You look cute.”

He prays to every deity in existence that Wonwoo isn’t able to make out the words that barely leave his mouth. And for a few seconds, he truly believes his wishes are heard, because his companion doesn’t say anything in return. Hesitantly, he lifts his eyes and directs them toward the brunet, only to notice that a very faint tint has taken over his cheeks as he fumbles with the phone, mouth twisted to the side. At last, their gazes lock, intensifying both of their blushes.

Wonwoo snaps out of it first, clicking his tongue. “I have a reputation to uphold,” he mutters, but grabs Junhui’s arm and tug him forward, setting him against his chest. “Come here.” 

The latter is too dazed to react, letting himself be carried like a doll. “Um, what…” And then it clicks into place when Wonwoo taps the phone a few times, bringing up the front camera and aims it toward their faces. The angle is terrible, though. Junhui’s hand shoots out before he can even compute the action. “Wait! That’s not how you take a selfie!”

Wonwoo pauses and glances sideways at him. 

He ignore the amusement dancing on the latter’s lips as he rectifies their positions, along with the angle and distance of the phone. Once he’s satisfied at the frame, he nods. “Say cheese!”

As they look at the shot afterward, Wonwoo comments, “You seem to have quite the experience,” he teases, propping his chin on Junhui’s shoulder. 

Fighting the butterflies in his belly, he feigns nonchalance. “And you don’t seem to know what you’re doing at all.”

A low chuckle tickles his ear. “I don’t exactly spend my day taking pictures of myself.” Moving his hand to the screen, he adds, “But you probably do.”

There’s really no point in denying it, so Junhui nods. “It’s not that I’m vain, okay?” he says before Wonwoo could comment. “I just like to document my day to day changes.”

Wonwoo’s smirk is still apparent as he speaks, “Can I see them?”

“My selfies?” He turns to look at the rapper over his shoulder.

“Mhm. I think it’s only fair when you took secret pictures of me.”

Junhui sticks his tongue out, and receives a poke to his side for his trouble. “Hey!”

There’s no apology, only a mirthful laugh and a squeeze around his waist. “Let me see, Pretty Boy.”

And so he shows him. 

“That’s a lot,” Wonwoo comments once they go through the folder. 

Junhui merely shrugs, silently satisfied that he’s been able to distract Wonwoo from deleting those sleeping pictures in the end. “Practice makes perfect.”

“Or you’re just vain.”

“Hmph!” Junhui sticks his tongue out in defiance, and Wonwoo bumps their foreheads together, causing the two to laugh.

“Send me that picture whenever you get the chance, kitten.”

Nodding, he does as he’s asked, but cheekily wonders, “Why do you want it?”

As if sensing the teasing, Wonwoo replies with, “Like we’ve already established, I don’t have that many good pictures of myself. Now that I do, shouldn’t I want to keep a copy?”

“Mm,” he nods, selecting Wonwoo’s name from the list. “And here I thought you wanted to stare at my face. Sent!”

The other lets out a laugh. “Why would I stare at a picture when I have the real deal?”

Heat rushes to Junhui cheeks, and he looks away, scrambling to find a safer topic. _Oh, he hates how easily Jeon Wonwoo can make his heart sing and stomach drop._

“So, uh, why were you sleeping out here?”

Wonwoo narrows his eyes, knowing exactly what Junhui’s trying to do. But he humors him with a serious answer instead of teasing him until he blushes again. “My bike is in the shop, so Coups gave me a ride. He doesn’t get out of class until after four, though, and we have a gig tonight, so I thought I’d kill some time catching up on sleep.”

“Coups. Is that the third member of your band?”

Wonwoo hums. “I’d invite you to come, but…” He makes a complicated face and continues, fingers drumming against Junhui's thigh. “The club isn’t exactly located in a safe neighborhood, so the crowd is a little...” He frowns. "If you can avoid it, it'd be best."

Junhui doesn’t need to be told twice. Although he does rejoice at the show of care and protectiveness. “Thanks.”

He receives a crooked smile and a pat on the knee. 

 

The rest of the afternoon is uneventful once Wonwoo walks him to his apartment building. Junhui wishes the performer a good show, then heads inside to start on his pile of assignments. Jihoon is already home by the time he enters, and the two exchange pleasant conversations as they work. Around dinnertime, while Junhui takes over the kitchen to prepare them all a meal, Soonyoung returns from practice, accompanied by Hansol. 

Jihoon takes charge then, and divides up the work. Since Hansol couldn’t be trusted with anything hot, he is tasked with setting up and doing the dishes afterward. Soonyoung is to prep the vegetables, while Jihoon washes the rice and sets it into the cooker. While they work, Hansol perches himself on a stool and watches Junhui debone and slice the chicken thighs. In no time at all, the apartment is filled with the fragrant smell of fried onions and garlic, making their stomachs grumble. Junhui doesn’t cook often, since it’s much easier and faster to head down to the one of the dining halls, but when the urge strikes, he always makes sure it’s something worthwhile.

Dinner doesn’t last very long, not when they all but inhale their foods. But it’s an enjoying time among the friends. Much more enjoyable than the lab report that waited for Hansol and him to write. 

The two set up camp around the coffee table, spreading their notes and lab manual out. It’s a long and painful process that occurs weekly, so they should be used to it by now, but unfortunately, one simply does not get habituated to hell. Hansol slumps against the couch, cradling the laptop and balancing it over his knees as he types, the strokes painstakingly slow. Jihoon and Soonyoung have long ago retired to their rooms, and Jihoon’s music has turned off completely twenty minutes ago. Junhui doesn’t need to look at the clock to know it’s late. 

“Do we really need to take Chem 6B?” he asks two hours later, voice minuscule, eyes glossy. “Neither one of us is even a science major.”

“It’s part of our GEs, you know that,” Junhui answers, but he hardly carries any more enthusiasm than the exhausted boy. “Come on, we’re almost done. We can do it!”

Hansol groans, slipping down to lay completely on the floor, limbs splayed out like a starfish. The laptop rests on his stomach as he stares up at the ceiling. “You’re always so positive, Jun. It’s amazing.”

He chuckles, leaning over to ruffle the blond locks. “Let’s work for another hour, and then we can take a break. Go get some fresh air, swing by Roger’s Market.”

The mere mention of a late night snack hunt is enough to revitalize Hansol. He shoots up into a sitting a position. “You promise?”

“Of course!” Junhui laughs. “Now let’s do our best. Maybe if we try really hard, we’ll finish by then!”

Making a face, Hansol arches a brow. “Okay, that’s a bit _too_ optimistic, even for you.”

They laugh quietly, then resume their work. 

It turns out that Junhui’s optimism was not in vain. They finish within the hour, although it’s debatable whether it’s due to the ease of the report’s last part, or if they were purely motivated by the snacks at the end of the black tunnel. At any rate, they stand up to stretch, and Junhui rubs Hansol’s stiff shoulders back to life. While the younger does his laces, Junhui grabs his keys and wallet. 

The two are halfway out of the door when Junhui’s phone goes off. Patting his pockets, he furrows his brows. Who could be calling this late at night. Worry shoots icily down his spine when he imagines the worse scenarios from home. His hands shake as he fetches the device out and check the number. He blinks. It’s not from home. 

The picture of Wonwoo and him from this afternoon flashes on the screen. Didn't he have a show tonight? Hansol glimpses over his shoulder when he notices the strange expression on his friend's face, seeing the ID of the caller. They share a confused look, before Hansol urges him to take the call.

“Hello?”

The other end is silent, except for some muffled voices. Junhui’s brows furrow even more, and he opens his mouth to repeat himself, ready to conclude Wonwoo butt-dialed him or something. But then the man himself comes on.

“H-hey, Junhui.”

A chill spreads through his body. Wonwoo’s voice is wobbly and strained. More than that, he’s never addressed him by his full name.

“Wonwoo? What’s the matter? Are you okay?” 

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m fine,” the other quickly reassures him, but it does nothing to loosen the knot in his stomach. “It’s just…” A sigh. It sounds pained. “I’m really sorry. Did I wake you up?”

“No, I’m awake. What’s going on?”

A yowl interrupts whatever Wonwoo was about to say, making Junhui jump. He can actually feel the sting from the cry. Immediately, a second voice shushes the cries, whispering something too low for Junhui to make out.

“It hurts!” someone retorts defiantly. “Leave it alone, I’ll do it!”

“You’re going to drop the whole bottle,” the second person warns. “Just sit still.”

It takes Junhui a second, but he recognizes the first voice. “Is that Mingyu? Is he hurt?”

Wonwoo comes back on the line. He sighs, and Junhui can imagine him pinching the bridge of his nose. “There’s been sort of a… scuffle. I hate to ask you this, but do you think you can come over to my apartment?”

The words are spoken before he can even think of the consequences. “What’s the address?” Once he jots it down on the corner of his notebook, he announces, “Okay. I think I can get there in fifteen minutes.”

Releasing a sigh of relief, Wonwoo thanks him sincerely.

“Don’t mention it. I’ll see you soon.”

“Junnie,” Wonwoo calls before he hangs up. “Please be careful.”

Despite the situation, he manages a small smile. “I will. Don’t worry.”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys!
> 
> So this chapter marks the end of what I have pre-written. Actually, I ran out mid-chapter, which means updates will come even more randomly than they have. I'm sorry!!!
> 
> But thank you for your continuous support, and I hope you'll stick around till the end with me! ^_^
> 
>  
> 
> P.S.: In case you're wondering... No, I'm still not over that [WonHui selca lesson](https://twitter.com/intheflowerbed/status/879283052068839425)


	7. Dreamland

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Can you visit Dreamland if you're awake?

 

“Hansol, no. You have class in the morning.”

“So do you! Besides, It’s past two in the morning. There's no way I can let you go there alone.”

Unable to deter the younger, Junhui reluctantly allows Hansol to tag along. The train and buses have long ago stopped working, so the two hail a cab and quickly make their way to the apartment building. There’s a flurry of nervousness and worry in Junhui’s stomach as he sits in the car, twirling the ring around his finger. What could possibly have happened at that show? Wonwoo had mentioned that the venue wasn’t situated in a safe neighborhood. Could the band have been attacked? Who would do such a thing? Especially considering the size and built of the members. Moreover, why didn’t they go straight to the hospital? The sustained injuries couldn’t be minimal if Wonwoo had to call for help.

Junhui bounces his knees, while his fingers tug at his lower lip, eyes watching the dark streets and dots of light. 

Glancing at his friend, Hansol offers him a comforting smile and squeeze around his upper arm. “It’s gonna be all right,” he says.

Junhui nods. “I hope so.”

According to the address, Wonwoo and his band live in one of the buildings that’s long been rented out exclusively to students. The housing grouping is basically an extension of the school at this point. Some preferred it to the on-campus apartments due to the leniency offered outside of the school’s rules. Something Junhui and Hansol discover the moment they step out of the cab.

The smell of cigarette smoke causes their noses to itch, and Junhui wrinkles it. Loitering outside of the lobby are a group of college-aged people, laughing and talking loudly. They sound buzzed. A few of them notice the boys approaching and call out to them. Fear grips Junhui’s throat, and all he can manage is to grab onto Hansol’s arm, hurrying the boy faster toward the door. The hyena cackles follow them until they’re safely inside the elevator. Only then does his heart lessens its pounding.

“Thanks for coming with me, Hansolie,” he mutters, tightening his grip around the younger’s arm.

Offering him a shaky grin and a returning pat, the boy nods. “No problem. I got your back.”

They walk down the dimly lit hallway, eyes scanning the numbers on the doors as they pass for the right apartment. At last, they come upon it, and Junhui raises his hand to rasp at the wood. His foot taps restlessly on the dirty carpet, eyes fixed on the stains that he can only hope is coffee. A few moments later, the door swings open. Junhui’s head snaps up. 

He gasps upon recognizing Wonwoo, hand flying to cover his mouth. Wide eyes take in the split and bloody lip, the swollen right brow, and the darkening bruises on his left cheek. The dark hair is disheveled and partially wet, which confuses Junhui for a second until he notices tiny cuts along the hairline and temple. The blood has dried over the small wounds, so at least it doesn’t seem very deep. 

“Thanks for coming, Pretty Boy. Sorry you had to see me in such a state,” Wonwoo says, forcing a grin. 

Junhui swallows, chest aching at the fact that even now, Wonwoo’s trying to be reassuring. “We came as fast as we could. What happened?”

The brunet cuts his eyes toward Hansol, who’s frozen solid next to Junhui, mouth agape. It might be from shock at the injuries, but it could also be from Wonwoo himself. The intimating aura isn’t something to scoff at. Which puzzles Junhui greatly as to the reason why anyone would do this to him.

“Just a little scuffle,” he replies, shifting his weight to let the two boys enter. 

The movement draws attention to his right hand gripping an ice pack. He must have been applying it to his face to stop the swelling, Junhui guesses. He’s about to ask more questions as he steps over the threshold, but then he notices the raw cuts and bruising on Wonwoo’s knuckles. 

“You were fighting,” he states, glancing up.

Wonwoo doesn’t answer, merely rubbing his nape as he points down the hall and indicates for them to follow after him.

Hansol tugs his friend by the elbow and leans in to whisper, “I bet he goes out at night and beats up people in back alleys for looking at him weird.” 

“Hansol!” Junhui shushes, furtively peeking at the front to make sure Wonwoo can’t hear them. “This is no time for jokes.”

But the boy still snickers and scrunches up his shoulders. He inclines his head toward Junhui again to add, “I’m just saying. You could helping criminals! Maybe that’s why they don’t want to go to the hospital.”

The suggestion raises an uneasy sensation in the pit of the Golden Boy’s stomach. He doesn’t want to believe it, but at the same time, it is highly suspicious behavior. Especially when Wonwoo has been less than generous with information before. It’s unlikely that the motives would be what Hansol imagines, but it still worries Junhui.

“Let’s just wait and see, okay?” he tells his friend, hoping his optimism isn’t misplaced.

Hansol nods, but he doesn’t look convinced.

When Junhui bites his lip and turns to the front again, he catches a glimpse of Wonwoo’s scowl before the rapper steps into the next room. It was only a second, but the irritation was evident. Did he somehow overhear their hushed conversation? Anxiety weighs down his shoulder, and he grabs Hansol’s wrist to move them along. Maybe he’ll be able to find a moment to apologize later. 

“Ow! You’re going to poke my eye out! Your hand is shaking too much!”

“Would you just sit still for a second?”

“But I heard the door!” 

Emerging from the hall into the small living room/kitchen, Junhui sees Mingyu sitting at the dining table across from an older boy with red silvery hair. Coups, Mingyu and Wonwoo had referred to him. While Coups doesn’t seem to have accumulated more injuries than Wonwoo, Mingyu is a different matter entirely. The third year feels a pang of sympathetic pain in his chest as he assess the numerous cuts on the hands and face, as well as the blotches of red. 

Yet despite the evident pain, Mingyu's face still lights up when he notices the new arrival. “Oh! Moon Junnie—Oww!” Wincing, he cradles his jaw.

Coups clicks his tongue. “I told you to stop moving,” he scolds, but there is clear worry and care underlying the harsh words. He turns to Junhui and Hansol, offering a small smile. “Hey, I’m sorry for meeting you under these circumstances. I’m Seungcheol.”

Junhui reciprocates the gesture, but his eyes roam the other’s face to study the wounds. He might have the least on his face, but his knuckles are bloody and shaking. “I’m glad to meet you,” Junhui replies, then indicates toward his young friend. “This is Hansol, I hope it’s okay that I brought him along.”

“No, no, of course,” Seungcheol says quickly, handing over the first aid kit when Junhui reaches for it. “It would have been too dangerous for you to come here alone. Right?”

Junhui takes his focus away from the bandages to see Seungcheol staring at something behind his head. He turns to see the seemingly put-out rapper blinking away the glare he’s been shooting the first year student. 

“Right,” Wonwoo mutters reluctantly, plopping himself down into the chair closest to where Junhui is standing. 

Subtly, Hansol scoots away to stand on his friend’s other side to avoid further scathing looks from the bad boy. “Your boyfriend is scary!” he hisses, too low for anyone else to hear among the screeches of chairs and Mingyu’s protests.

Sill, Junhui jolts and throws a nervous look to his side. Wonwoo isn’t paying attention; he’s molding the ice pack and repositioning it over his cheek. The lit major reprimands the younger with a frown, but the boy grins and pats his shoulder. _Really. No respect_. With a shake of the head, Junhui sighs and smiles back, nonetheless. Staying mad at Hansol is an impossible task for Wen Junhui.

In no time at all, a makeshift nursing station gets set up at the kitchen table. Thankfully, none of the wounds appear grave enough to need stitches, and after washing away the blood and the sticky residue that turns out to be a combination of beer and liquor, the residual damage is definitely not as critical as it originally looked. Junhui helps Mingyu first, considering he’s the worse for wear, disinfecting and applying ointment over the cuts. The tall rapper doesn’t make it easy, though. He hisses and whimpers from the sting of the medication, jerking away at every contact, leg twitching under the table. At one particular gash, he twitches so suddenly, he bangs his knee against the table.

“Are we going to have to restrain you?” Seungcheol’s voice rises, but he reaches over to rub the sore spot. 

“Hmph!” Mingyu clamps down on his lips and screws his eyes shut. 

It only lasts for a few seconds before he’s back to business, though. Junhui offers a sympathetic smile and ruffles his hair, taking the opportunity to feel for any bumps or open wounds. Fortunately, he doesn’t sense any, and his fingertips come out blood-free.

"Um, Jun?" the boy calls, hesitant as he hisses and closes his eyes at the sting.

"Yes?"

"Does Minghao know you're here?"

The question surprises him for a second, while Seungcheol and Wonwoo roll their eyes. "Uh, no. I don't live with him. I only brought Hansol because we were together when Wonwoo called."

The chair squeaks as Wonwoo shuffles, shooting a dark look toward the pair. "What were you doing together at 2am?" he wants to know, tone cold and dead.

Junhui darts his gaze over and arches a brow. "Our lab report is due tomorrow," he answers, watching the scowl gradually smoothing out from Wonwoo's expression.

"Heyyy," Mingyu cuts in, frowning. Although Junhui isn't sure if it's from displeasure or the pain. "Wait your turn. I was talking."

Wonwoo rolls his eyes, while Seungcheol bites back a laugh.

"Anyway," Mingyu addresses his impromptu nurse. "Could you keep this a secret from Minghao? I don't want him to think even more lowly of me."

The sincerity tugs at Junhui's heart, which prompts him to say, "I don't think Minghao hates you."

Hope flashes immediately in the boy's eyes, wide grin breaking out, completely forgetting the pain. "So you think I have a chance?"

"Uh... I'm really not sure—"

"Totally, dude," Hansol pipes up, removing his gaze from the roll of gauze he's been pawing. "He talks about you all the time when we're at the gym."

"Really?" Mingyu's surprise mirrors Junhui's. 

"Yeah, although it's a lot of complaining," Hansol says with a shrug, successfully bringing the poor puppy down into the dumps again. "But I mean, just the fact that he keeps talking about you has to matter, right? It's better than if he just ignores you. Oh, and he did say you have good taste in shoes, though."

"REALLY?" Mingyu all but bounces out of the chair, and it takes both Seungcheol and Junhui to keep him from toppling the table over in his excitement. "This is the best news—No, the best night of my life!"

Wonwoo snorts, "Do I have to remind you of what happened just hours ago?"

"I don't care! This is great! Hansol, we need to hang out more."

"For real?" Now it's Hansol's turn to grin widely. Junhui's almost forgotten how of big of a fan he is of these guys. That might have also contributed to his insistence for accompanying Junhui. 

The older doesn't doubt his friend's intention in wanting to protect him, but going to his idol's apartment must have been a huge bonus. For that reason, Junhui lets out a small chuckle as he casts a fond look at the boy. 

Thanks to the new friendship, Mingyu manages to stay still for the rest of the time Junhui works on him. Once the more serious injuries are taken care of, Hansol takes over and helps the older rapper wrap a couple rolls of gauze around his hands. The two talk quietly as Hansol works, and Junhui turns his attention to the next patient. However, Wonwoo shakes his head and indicates toward Seungcheol. 

The older seems to consider arguing, but eventually he simply shakes his head and relents. Taking care of him doesn’t take very long. He has minimal injuries, and unlike Mingyu, Seungcheol is the perfect patient, sitting still and anticipating when Junhui would want him to turn and move in order to reach the next cut. He even tries to make small talk, asking about Junhui’s classes and interests. For a second, Junhui could almost pretend he’s meeting a new friend on campus or at a club meeting, instead of treating injuries from some sort of violent fist fight.

It’s not the ease with which he can hold a conversation with Seungcheol that amazes him. It’s the fact that a month ago, he had seen this man on stage and had been greatly overwhelmed by the power that the whole band possessed. Now Junhui is standing in their humble apartment, discussing the best types of fish for sashimi while spreading antibiotic ointment over his eyebrow with a cotton swab.

“Nothing beats the taste right as it comes off of the net, though,” Seungcheol says.

“Oh, have you been fishing out in the open sea then?”

The older nods. “My parents took their kids on a week-long trip, and we were forced to lead the fisherman life for the entire time.”

Junhui giggles. “That sounds pretty fun.”

But Seungcheol frowns and shakes his head. “It… really wasn’t,” he laughs, causing Junhui to mimic the gesture.

“We went fishing once,” the lit major volunteers. “The first time out, my brother and I caught one, but the moment we pulled it up and unhooked it from the line, the fish flew right out of his grasp and back into the ocean.”

Seungcheol chuckles. “That’s unfortunate. I hope you managed to catch something else.”

“We did. It was a fun trip despite all the little bumps in the road.”

As the two continue to converse during the time Junhui finishes bandaging his knuckles, the third year starts to feel something crawling over the back of his legs. He tries to appear unfazed as he attempts to discern the sensation. The touch is light, but carries enough pressure to distract him from the conversation. It moves slowly from his calf, pausing briefly behind his knee, before creating swirls and circles on his thigh. And then it clicks. His face and the tip of his ears heat up when he makes the connection.

A glance over his shoulder shows Wonwoo at the table, chin propped on a hand as it cradles a new ice pack against his cheek. Sensing Junhui’s gaze on him, he glimpses up from where he’s been scanning the book in front of him. His gaze is innocuous as he meets Junhui’s, but the effect is rather lost when his fingers are dancing along the latter’s thighs, boldly scaling up the inside of his legs. 

The blush intensifies, and Junhui clears his throat, ducking his face away from Seungcheol’s view. Thank goodness he only has to tie off the ends of the gauze, and then—

“Junhui, are you okay?” the fourth year asks with worry, brows furrowed. “You’re not getting a fever from venturing outside without a proper jacket, are you?”

_Oh, geez_.

Wonwoo disguises his snickers behind a cough, teasing unrelenting. In fact, the strokes travel even further up. Junhui’s face is burning at this point, and his stomach is doing so many summersaults, he has a hard time standing still. 

“N-no, I’m fine,” he replies, stealthily reaching below to swat Wonwoo’s hand away. “Um, here. Let me just finish up.” Quickly, he forces his trembling fingers to work the knot, trying very hard to ignore the pleasant shudders elicited by the return of Wonwoo’s touch. 

Junhui’s head is too fuzzy to make much sense of Seungcheol’s appreciative words. He only mumbles out a quick “You’re welcome,” and turns around before he gets asked more embarrassing questions.

Faced with the one responsible, he glares as severely and with as much intensity as he can muster. However, that only prompts Wonwoo’s grin to widen, fingertips continuing to draw patterns in progressively more inappropriate places. 

With a simple comment, Wonwoo shatters his best efforts to look tough. “You’re too cute to look scary, kitten.”

Junhui flushes. “Stop that,” he hisses, sliding the first aid kit closer and grabbing a new cotton ball. A cursory glance shows Hansol sitting on the couch with Mingyu, apparently discussing calculus homework, of all things. Whatever, as long as none of them hears or sees what he and Wonwoo are up to, he can avoid death by embarrassment.

“Do what?” The saccharine tone pulls his attention back to the bad boy.

He scowls. “You know what. It’s distracting.” To drive his point across, he nudges the hand away with a knee. Only the universe hates him, and _somehow_ his foot catches the edge of the rug, sending him stumbling against Wonwoo.

His hands fly out to grab onto the set of shoulders, while the latter immediately steadies him around the waist, concern flashing across his expression. “You okay?”

_Oh, fine. I’m just standing in between your legs, with your hands on my waist. I’m going to combust any second now, but everything is peachy!_

“Yeah,” he swallows, averted his gaze. “I’m fine. Thanks.” When he takes a step back, though, he finds himself unable to, halted by Wonwoo's hands still gripping his middle. Curiosity wins out against self-preservation, as he fights the pounding of his heart to lift his gaze. “What?” 

Concern is quickly vanishing to make room for mischief again. “Wouldn’t it be easier for you to work up close?”

Junhui catches his lip between his teeth and chews on it. The heated gaze Wonwoo casts over him as the rapper stares intently at the action doesn’t escape his notice. He manages a small nod, then gets to work.

If Wonwoo’s fingers were distracting, then the lingering look is twice as bad for Junhui’s heart. Every move he makes, Wonwoo follows. For the most part, he pretends not to be affected, focusing on the task at hand, wiping away the dried blood and applying medication. However, he’s only human. And so eyes lock, and ultimately, faces come closer. 

It takes a door slamming down the hall to snap him out of it.

Cheeks flushed, Junhui averts his gaze. “Will you tell me what happened?” he asks gently to take his mind off of the nerves and butterflies. Tilting the square chin, he studies the cuts around Wonwoo's temple. 

“Nothing to fret over, Pretty Boy,” the other claims, but the soiled cotton balls and bruises say otherwise. “Just a regular bar brawl—ah!”

“Sorry, sorry!” Junhui apologizes quickly, wincing. To distract from the pain, he acts before his brain computes the implication. He runs a hand through the dark hair, blunt nails scraping the scalp.

Wonwoo closes his eyes and breathes out a contented sigh, leaning into the touch until his forehead rests against Junhui’s chest. 

After a moment, when he senses the tension leaving Wonwoo’s shoulders, he ventures again. “Why did you guys fight?”

The hands on his waist fist the fabric of his shirt. Slowly, the boy pulls away to offer a small smile. Junhui frowns. He doesn't like it; it’s so sad, and accentuated with the split lip, his chest clenches. Again, in hopes of dispelling whatever discomfort Wonwoo might have, he reaches up to brush the bangs away from the high forehand, touch gentle and warm against the cool skin, avoiding the open wounds.

Wonwoo unclenches a fist to take Junhui’s hand into his. The red welts stare angrily at the two of them, and Junhui rubs softly against the back of the pale hand, coaxing an answer out of its owner.

At last, Wonwoo states, “Meeting old acquaintances isn’t always a pleasure.” 

There it is again. That cryptic way of answering questions pertaining to his past. Junhui bites his lip and waits for the other to elaborate on his own.

“I wasn’t going to approach them, but after our set, one of them started to harass a group of patrons. Mingyu saw and intervened.” He sighs, casting a look toward the second year across the room. “The girls got away safely, but the bastard took it personally.” Meeting Junhui’s innocent eyes, he decides to spare the details. “Mingyu isn’t a fighter; he can’t even swat a fly without feeling guilty. Seungcheol tried to break up the… altercation, but that somehow aggravated the situation even more. I jumped in. Punches flew, from all parties. The bouncers broke it off and kicked everyone out.”

The unease that’s been crushing Junhui’s chest disappears. Wonwoo didn’t just pick a fight over something mundane. He was protecting his friends, who were standing up for the harassed patrons. While Junhui doesn’t approve of the violence, he understands. More than that, though, he’s curious about Wonwoo’s connection to those jerks. 

Unconsciously, Junhui lifts a hand to card through Wonwoo’s hair again. The act, while initially impulsive, serves to calm the rapper down. The agitation settles, and his shoulders sag a little. “Did your… acquaintances recognize you?”

Wonwoo laughs wryly. “You could say that.” When he smirks, though, it’s with pride and smugness. It’s easy to infer that he probably gave as much as he was given, which means the jerks more than likely ended up in worse condition than them. He wants to ask more about it, to know why Wonwoo harbors such ill feelings even before they disturbed the peace at the club. However, he already knows Wonwoo will find a way to avoid the subject, to distract him. Just like he’s done before.

With a small sigh, Junhui resumes working on the rest of the cuts. “I wish you would have gone to the hospital.”

But Wonwoo shakes his head. “The school would find out.”

Junhui pulls his brows together. “How are you going to hide everything overnight? Someone is bound to see and ask questions.”

“That’s why we’re skipping class tomorrow—well,” he glances at the clock, “In a few hours.” An easy smile punctuates the statement. “None of us got any major injury, and the swelling should be gone by Monday. The rest can be hidden with concealer.”

“I can’t believe you’re just going to skip school.”

An amused chuckle fills the gap between them. “What, is that too much for the Golden Boy to handle?”

Junhui purses his lip and sticks his tongue out. “I really don’t know how you manage to get top grades with that attitude.”

He laughs. “I told you, I’m a genius.” 

Snorting, Junhui rolls his eyes, but he laughs, nevertheless. A pause as his mind spins. “If only you were a genius who also had a stronger sense of self-preservation,” he muses quietly, turning to gather the soiled cotton balls and bandage wrappers. “You were fortunate tonight, but what if something worse had happened? What if there were more of them? You could’ve—” He cuts himself short, unwilling to even think of the consequences to the hypothetical questions. 

Wonwoo stays quiet for a moment, then asks, “Were you worried?”

“Of course I was worried,” Junhui replies right away, voice cracking at the end. He shuts his eyes and swallows. When he opens them, Wonwoo is staring right at him, piercing gaze boring right into his soul. A shiver runs down his spine from the intensity. He struggles to find something to say, uttering the words through the lump in his throat. “I mean, you’re my…” He stops, mind blanking out.

Wonwoo shows no mercy. Inching forward, he cuts the already small space between them in half. “I’m your what?” The hand resting on Junhui’s waist circles to the small of his back, and firm fingers knead the muscles to ease the nerves, urging him to answer.

“Friend,” he breathes out, lifting his gaze to settle on Wonwoo’s. “We’re… friends, right?”

Something flickers in the depth of those dark eyes, but it disappears too quickly for Junhui to make sure he saw correctly. Wonwoo presses his mouth into a thin line, and the hand drops from Junhui’s back. The lack of warmth causes him to shiver, but he masks it with a roll of the shoulders as he gathers the kit.

“Yeah,” Wonwoo finally answers. “Guess we are, Pretty Boy.”

A stifling tension hangs in the air, and Junhui bites his lip, wondering if he’s made a mistake. He’s figured the friend card would be the safest response to avoid any awkwardness or assumptions about the kind of relationship they have. Junhui wouldn’t be able to handle it if he’d put more weight and emphasis on the relationship, only to have Wonwoo scoff and reject it. 

But seeing his companion’s reaction now, perhaps he should have feigned ignorance altogether.

By the time he returns from throwing away the trash and washing his hands, Wonwoo has left the kitchen. Neither of the other band members are around, either, so he guesses they must have gone back to their rooms. He finds Hansol lounging on the couch, hugging a pillow to his chest as he dozes off. Someone has covered him partially with a blanket. Junhui watches the boy fondly for a second, guilt gnawing at him for dragging him along, on top of having to rouse him now. The clock above the stove reads 3:54. If they make it to the apartment by 4:30, they could sleep for a little less than a couple hours before having to get ready for class.

Walking to the front, he takes a seat on the edge of the couch and gently shakes the boy’s shoulder.

“Hansolie, wake up.”

The first year scowls and tosses onto his back, mumbling, “Five more minutes.”

Junhui sighs and tries again. “Come on, Hansol, wake up. We have to go home.”

More groans of protests, but no signs of him opening his eyes anytime soon. Junhui sighs and pushes a hand through his hair, contemplating carrying the boy on his back. The buses should be running by now, too.

As he grabs Hansol’s arm, movement from down the hall makes him pause. Seungcheol has changed into an old t-shirt and some joggers, looking more like your next door neighbor than a badass rapper. If the bruises and cuts were ignored.

“I’m sorry,” Junhui says quickly. “We’re going to leave so you can get some rest. Could you lock the door for us?”

Seungcheol scratches his head. “You want to leave now?” He takes a closer look at the boy halfway over Junhui’s back. “While carrying him?”

“Um… yes?” he squeaks out.

The older shakes his head in disapproval. “I don’t think it’s a good idea. Hansol's already asleep, and it doesn't look like he's willing to part with Wonwoo's blanket anytime soon," he comments, glancing at the tight grip the boy has on the fleece. Junhui doesn't have time to register the fact that Wonwoo covered up Hansol's chilled body before Seungcheol continues, “Why don’t you try catching some sleep here? I’ll drive you two to school in the morning.”

“Oh!” Junhui blinks, the offer so out of the blue, he doesn’t have a proper response at the ready. “That’s… very kind, but we can’t impose like that.”

“Don’t worry about it, it’s no trouble at all. Besides, this is the least we can do after you guys came all the way out here to help us.” With a gentle smile, he crosses the room to grab a water bottle from the fridge. On his way back, he ruffles Junhui’s hair, reminding the latter of a big brother.

Giggling, Junhui flicks his hair out of his eyes. “Thank you.” He places Hansol back on the cushions and tucks the blanket back around him.

Seungcheol studies him briefly, eyes flicking to the purple strands. “You know, now that I’m looking at you closely, I can see why Wonwoo’s been so obsessed with the color lately.”

The comment brings a rosy tint to Junhui’s cheeks, and he ducks his head. “Thank you. I’ll rely the message to the hair dresser.” 

Laughing, the rapper adds, “Well, I’m sure it has more to do with you than the dye.”

The blush deepens, and Junhui fidgets with his fingers. 

Another set of footsteps enter the room, and the two previously speaking boys turn to see who it could be. Wonwoo has changed out of the stage outfit, too, looking far more comfortable in dark loungewear. Junhui almost smiles at the black on black ensemble, but then he recalls the weird atmosphere from earlier, and he chews on his lip instead, eyes falling to Hansol’s sleeping figure.

“You have an extra set of pillow and comforter, right?” Seungcheol asks, either oblivious or ignoring the charged atmosphere. 

Wonwoo flickers his gaze away from Junhui to look at his bandmate. “Why?”

“I told Jun he could sleep here tonight.”

Dark brows furrow, and the corners of his mouth downturn. “He can’t sleep here.”

“What?” 

While it’s Seungcheol who voices the question, it’s Junhui who feels the jab of hurt to the chest.

“You expect them to share the couch?” Wonwoo inquires, barely able to hold back the annoyance. “They won’t fit.”

Junhui throws a glimpse at the piece of furniture. Wonwoo’s got a point. “Um, it’s okay. I can take the floor, it’s no bother,” he says quietly, afraid of infringing on the conversation.

Again, that seems to be the wrong answer. Wonwoo clicks his tongue and pushes himself away from the wall. Junhui watches with slight trepidation as the performer arrives at his side and picks up his wrist. “Come with me.”

Too easily, Junhui obeys, trailing behind him as he walks past a somewhat exasperated and sighing Seungcheol. 

“W-where are we going?” he requests to know as he stares at the strong back in front of him to divert his attention away from the feeling of the large hand wrapped around his wrist. The hold is gentle and loose enough not to hurt, but firm and secure at the same time, as if afraid he’ll slip away.

“I’m not going to let you sleep on the floor, Pretty Boy,” he answers right as he pushes open a door at the end of the hall. Without pause, he tugs Junhui inside and closes the door behind them.

Books. And plants. There’s a lot of them, littering almost every flat surface of the small room. A single reading lamp offers the soft glow that bathes the immediate area, leaving shadows to stretch across the far walls. The desk pushed in the corner by the window holds textbooks and novels, some staked neatly on the shelf, others open and stuffed with multiple bookmarks. The familiar messenger bag sits against the foot of the desk, tucked beside the chair among a small pile of classics. From the way everything seems arranged so haphazardly around the room, Junhui guesses Wonwoo must have spent the short break after he left the kitchen to tidy up. 

It’s only then that it truly hits Junhui.

He’s in Wonwoo’s room. He’s about to spend the night in Wonwoo’s room. The room that belongs to Wonwoo. The room where his bed is, and where he sleeps. _Okay_. Stay calm. Don’t assume anything. For all Junhui knows, Wonwoo has a sleeping bag he can use, which would be great and in no way disappointing at all.

With a vigorous shake of the head, Junhui attempts to stop the silly thoughts. He’s probably sleep-deprived and thinking ridiculous things. 

“Do you need to change?”

“Huh?” Blinking, he tries to backpedal, hoping to recall a missing part of the conversation. Unfortunately, he can’t find anything.

“You’re still in your street clothes,” Wonwoo says, indicating toward the tee and blue cargos. “We’re about the same size, I can lend you my pajamas.”

“Oh, no, it’s okay,” Junhui answers quickly. For some reason, the thought of wearing Wonwoo’s clothes causes his cheeks to heat up again. He shifts his weight onto his left foot, fingers stretching the hem of the shirt. “Um…” He has no idea how to ask where he should sleep without sounding entitled or rude. 

The grip around his wrist slips to hold his hand and takes him to the bed. Blood rushes by his ears, muting the sound of his voice when he attempts to speak. He sets his hand over Wonwoo’s, halting the short walk.

The latter turns over his shoulder, expression clouding when he notices the apprehension on Junhui’s face. “What’s wrong, kitten?” His voice is soft and low, comforting.

Junhui exhales. “Are we…?” Unable to finish the sentence, he glimpses at the bed behind Wonwoo, hoping it would be enough to convey his meaning.

The rapper follows his line of sight, brows smoothing out from understanding. An amused chuckle tumbles out of his lips, and he uses his free hand to caress the warm cheek. “We are going to sleep,” he says with a grin, but there is no denying the exhaustion consuming the lines on his face. “It’s very late. As much as I’d love to show you a good time, I’ll most likely fall asleep before it gets anywhere interesting.”

Junhui can’t help it. Even as his cheeks remain hot, a giggle slips out, dispelling the tension and wariness. Wonwoo smiles and squeezes his hand.

The bad boy doesn’t try to pull any improper moves on him as they get under the covers. There isn’t much room on a twin mattress, but the boys manage to leave a single strip of space between their backs. Not that it does any good, when Junhui can distinctly feel the heat radiating out of Wonwoo’s back and seeping into his. Really, how much good could a couple inches do? 

His muscles loosen as he burrows his face into the pillow. The smell of clean laundry mingles with a hint of the cologne that Wonwoo uses and his own unique scent; Junhui smiles despite himself. Initially, he expects to lose consciousness the moment his head hits the fluffy pillow, but minutes pass, and he’s still wide awake, too self-conscious of the surrounding, and most importantly, of the boy behind him.

At that moment, Wonwoo shifts to lay on his back, careful not to disturb the other side of the bed. “Why aren’t you asleep?” comes the deep but quiet whisper after a minute of stillness.

Junhui’s heart lurches. “You’re not asleep, either,” he points out, looking over his shoulder to see the faint trace of a smile in the dark. Growing a little bold, he mimics the change in position, resulting in them laying side by side, shoulders touching. It reminds him of that night on the roof.

“I think Mingyu’s weird cooking urges ruined my sleeping habits.”

Chuckling, he glances over at the speaker. “You don’t think he’ll try to cook or bake anything tonight, right?”

“If he does, I’ll personally strangle him.”

There is no real vindictiveness in the threat, and Junhui giggles, stifling the sound against the bony shoulder. With a start, he realizes what he’s done and jerks away. “Sorry.”

However, a cool hand grabs his wrist under the comforter and holds him in place. “It’s fine. You can stay there.”

Heat spreads across his neck and face, and he’s rendered very grateful to the darkness. They stay quiet for a moment, long enough for Junhui to believe Wonwoo has fallen asleep after all. But then his voice drifts through the air, and his breath tickles the top of Junhui’s head.

“Any particular reason you haven’t boarded the train to Dreamland yet?” he teases, thumb stroking the back of Junhui’s hand.

Junhui has no idea what prompts him to say it, but the words come tumbling out of his mouth before he can stop them. “I’m waiting for you.”

While the comment elicits a chuckle from Wonwoo, the one who uttered it blushes brightly and curses the butterflies in his stomach. It might be dark, but Junhui still hides his face by turning into his neighbor’s shoulder. 

“You’re adorable, kitten,” he mouthes against Junhui’s forehead. The sensation makes the later smile from the pleasant flutter in his chest.

Wonwoo shifts his arm and cradles the boy against his chest, hand lifting to stroke the purple strands. Automatically, Junhui curls up against the protective body, fingers gripping the shirt material in front of his nose. He lets his eyes scan the small cuts along the strong jaw, brows furrowing in response to the sight.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” he asks quietly. “Does it still hurt?”

Meeting his gaze, Wonwoo cracks a smile. It’s tender for a good second, before it morphs into mischief. “Why? Will you kiss the pain away?”

Junhui flushes at the teasing, but gathers all the bravado—albeit fake—that he possesses to fire back, “In your dreams!”

Seeing right through him, Wonwoo chuckles and squeezes him around the waist. “Maybe,” he says with a smirk.

The action makes Junhui’s stomach flip, but he disguises the blush with an eye roll. “Liar.”

“No, it’s true,” he insists, smirk turning more teasing by the second. “It started ever since I decided to count kittens instead of sheep.”

Even though he wants to remain indifferent to the joke, he can’t help his natural reaction and ends up giggling anyway. “Is that so? And that usually leads to good dreams?”

“Very good dreams,” Wonwoo affirms, cupping the tan fingers over his chest. 

“Then how come you haven’t tried it yet? It seems to work so well for you in class.”

“Hey!” 

The poke to Junhui's side makes him squeak, and he muffles the sound and laughter into Wonwoo’s chest.

Cracking an indulgent smile, Wonwoo bumps their foreheads together. “One.” He pauses to grin, voice dripping of sarcasm. “What a shame, I’m out of kittens.” 

Junhui giggles. “You’re so silly.”

“Well, you know what that means, right?”

A little perplexed, the other narrows his eyes and makes a face, shaking his head. 

Apparently proud of what he’s about to say next, the rapper grins, making Junhui’s heart pound even more. “Lull me to sleep, kitten.”

The supposed purple furred kitten widens his eyes at the request. “How did you know I can sing?”

“I didn’t,” Wonwoo answers, beaming with satisfaction. “But you just confirmed it.”

Displeased that he’s been tricked, Junhui pouts, making the other chuckle merrily. He makes a whining sound, but it’s no match to the pleading tone Wonwoo uses on him.

“Please, Junnie?” To make it even worse, he grazes the tip of his nose along the boy’s jawline, drawing a small shudder from the latter.

Junhui doesn’t even need to see it to know Wonwoo is smirking. “Fine,” he finds himself saying. The smirk widens.

Picking up the first lullaby that he can think of, he begins to sing softly against the shirt, hoping the sound would get muted somewhat to save him from embarrassment. His voice shakes from the lack of warm up, and it cracks a couple times from the nerves. Junhui winces at the jarring notes, but pushes through until he finishes the whole first verse. Only then does the heat become too much, and he’s forced to hide behind his hands.

Somewhere above him, he hears Wonwoo’s soft and deep chuckle. For some reason, it comes across as affectionate rather than amused. Long fingers combed through his hair soothingly as Wonwoo starts to speak.

“You have a beautiful voice, kitten. It’s very sweet.”

“Thanks,” Junhui mumbles behind the barrier of his hands, cheeks heating up again. 

After a gentle squeeze, pale fingers resume their mission to decorate the small of his back with invisible patterns. “But now it makes me wonder…” he leaves the sentence unfinished, prompting Junhui to glance up at him to hear the rest of it. “I wonder what it would sound like under… different circumstances.”

Confusion pulls the fair brows together. “What do you mean?”

Beguiling smile stretches across his lips, unaffected by the cuts. “Just… happier—” deft fingers slip under the shirt hem, “—more pleasurable circumstances.” As the fingertips glide over to his side, Junhui yelps and jolts out of Wonwoo’s grasp. “Shhh!” A hand clamps over the Golden Boy’s mouth as Wonwoo bites back his own laughter. 

Wide eyed, Junhui lays with his back to the mattress, staring up at the brunet hovering above him. Unlike him, Wonwoo is calmly listening for some kind of disturbances or noises down the hall, afraid the surprised cry might have woken the other boys up. When nothing seems out of the ordinary, and the apartment remains as silent as it did before, he turns his attention back to the boy under him, removing his hand. 

“You’re ticklish!” he states, evidently delighted at the fact.

Junhui knows where this is going, and he scrambles to find a way out. “No, not at all.” He shakes his head furiously.

Dark eyes narrow as a smirk tugs the corner of his mouth. “Shall we test it out?”

“No!”

The outburst prompts Wonwoo to laugh again, nose crinkling. Momentarily, Junhui lets his guard down as he smiles at the joyous sound. He’s so mesmerized by the rate sight, he doesn’t notice the rapper shifting his position until he’s lying completely over him, arms caging the side of his head. A cool finger sweeps through his bangs, gaze fond. “You’ll never cease to amuse me, Pretty Boy.”

Said Pretty Boy sticks his tongue out in defiance, ignoring how the weight above him feels welcome rather than uncomfortable. He receives a light bump to the head. “Ow!” he pouts, wrinkling his nose.

The perpetrator chuckles, moving his thumb to caress the nonexistent soreness away. “Sorry, kitten.”

A new wave of flutter washes over Junhui as Wonwoo’s gentle gaze settles over him. His heart is racing too fast and too hard; there’s no way Wonwoo can’t tell from where they’re pressed together. The thought sends panic down his spine, and he rushes to find something to say.

“Don’t you think you should try to sleep now?” he asks, flinching from the breathlessness of his voice. He blames it all on the boy on top of him.

Wonwoo hums, fingers returning to play with his hair. “I’m not sleepy, though.”

Sometimes—most of the time—Junhui speaks without thinking. This is one of those times. “What happened to being so tired, you’ll fall asleep before anything interesting happens?” Realizing what he’s just implied, he claps his hands over his mouth, staring up at Wonwoo aghast with huge eyes.

A sly smirk tugs the corner of the latter’s mouth, and he laughs quietly, the deep sound not quite making it out of his throat. He leans forward. “Should I show you a good time, then?” he wonders, voice like velvet as it glides over his ear, warm breath caressing his neck.

Junhui shudders and screws his eyes shut, fingers gripping into the front of Wonwoo’s tee. “I—” His breath hitches when the tip of Wonwoo’s nose slides against his jaw. “I have an 8am lab.” The protest is weak, and he prays to the universe that Wonwoo has more sense than he does at the moment.

The low hum directly over his skin makes him whimper, and the brunet chuckles. “It’s unfortunate that you’re so unwilling to skip class, Pretty Boy,” he muses. “But we can still have some fun now.” Cool fingers stroke burning cheeks, slowly gliding down his neck and torso to grip at his waist. “I’ll show you what my dreams look like, if you want.”

It would be so easy to agree, so easy to follow that enchanting voice anywhere and obey its every whim. To blame it all on the heat of the moment and the cover of night. To pretend it is all a dream. 

But Junhui’s far too awake to dream. He can’t follow Wonwoo’s voice to the heavens when he’s still grounded in reality by self-doubts and worries. If he were to say yes, there would be no way out, and he’s not ready to lose his heart. Not even to Jeon Wonwoo. Not yet.

So he grips the shirt tighter, forcing his voice out through the tightness around his throat. He blinks the arousal away, focusing on a spot on the ceiling. 

“I’m not ready,” he says, barely above a whisper.

But Wonwoo hears him. He inches away to stare down at his face. Junhui expects anger, or at the very least, annoyance. What he doesn’t anticipate is a soft smile and even gentler gaze. “I know you’re not,” the brunet replies, smile bright enough to mask the slight disappointment. “Still, it was worth a try, right?” 

The anxiety gradually withdraws, and Junhui relaxes, smiling sheepishly. 

Wonwoo squeezes his waist once, then rolls over to his back, easily scooping Junhui against him. The latter settles on his chest, and he brushes back the errant purple strands from tickling his chin.

A pause stretches, but neither voices any complaint. Junhui focuses on the soothing sensation of Wonwoo’s fingers idly drawing patterns on his shoulder blade. 

“Thank you,” Junhui whispers at last, voice so soft it almost blends into the silence surrounding them. 

The strokes on his shoulder stop shortly, then resume. “I haven’t done anything, kitten.”

The gratefulness could pertain to many things: lessening the impact of the fight to spare his feelings, covering Hansol with a blanket when he didn't have to, being a considerate person and making sure Junhui's comfortable in a foreign place. But most of all, for not pushing him for more. Wonwoo has a temper and flirts a lot, incessantly teasing, tells horrible jokes, and keeps a lot of secrets. However, the more time they spend together, the more he realizes that Soonyoung was right. Jeon Wonwoo isn't a bad guy.  

Junhui smiles, glancing up to meet the rapper's slight confused gaze. “I know. That's why.”  

Wonwoo's expression turns tender as he nods and tightens his hold around Junhui. The two quiet down, letting the calming silence surround them once more.

To no one’s surprise, neither one gets a wink of sleep that nigh. Or rather, early morning. By the time they finally settle down and decide to _sleep_ the first, cool morning sun rays began to filter through the blinds, chasing away the shadows. An alarm clock goes off somewhere, followed by muffled groans and shouts to turn the damn thing off. Junhui recognizes Mingyu’s complaints and Seungcheol’s irritation. His giggle turns into a sigh as he glances at the clock on Wonwoo's desk. 

Time to get up. The dream is over.

 

 


	8. Family

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Family doesn't necessarily mean blood-relations. Sometimes, it's just a bunch of loving friends, connected by weird habits. Regardless, Wonwoo will have to get their approval soon enough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry it's taken so long for an update, guys. But there's been so much goodness happening! Diamond Edge Japan finally got released in HD (i may or may not have spent two days straight watching it), and Pledis released that clip of Jun playing piano! Ahh... what a beautiful and talented little bean. ♥(ˆ⌣ˆԅ)
> 
> AND WONHUI (ft. Hoshi) HAD A VLIVE!!! SO. MUCH. WONHUI. CONTENT... ٩(≧∇≦*)۶
> 
> Anyway, this chapter is 8K+, so hopefully that'll make up for the wait??? (i hope)

 

Walking down the hall and into the living room, Junhui finds Hansol sitting on the couch, blanket wrapped around his shoulders as he yawns. Bleary eyes scan the room, hand absentmindedly running through the mussed up hair to make it even more disheveled. He yawns again, rubbing at his eyes. Junhui’s footsteps alert him of the older’s presence, and he turns over his shoulder.

Repressing an endeared and amused grin, Junhui steps closer. “Good morning,” he says, slipping his fingers through the unruly blond locks. “Did you sleep okay?”

Hansol mutters something under his breath and leans his head against Junhui’s chest. “I’m hungry.”

This time, Junhui does chuckle, patting the bedhead. “I’ll grab you some breakfast before class. Now come on. Let’s go.”

“Are we taking the bus?” the boy asks, standing up and stretching. He takes a gander at the oven clock. “There should be one coming every fifteen minutes now, right?”

“Yeah,” Junhui agrees, biting his bottom lip. Seungcheol offered to drive them to school, but seeing as no one else seemed to be awake—saved for Wonwoo, he wondered if it wouldn’t be better if he and Hansol just saved the senior the trouble.

As soon as the thoughts flitter through his mind, a shadow ambles out of the hall. Red silvery hair sticks up in every direction as the band’s leader yawns into his fist. He massages one eye as he raises the other to greet the boys.

“’Morning.” He heads for the kitchen. “Anyone want coffee?”

“Me.”

Junhui startles from the deep voice seemingly coming out of nowhere.  

The rapper glances at his guests, then goes to accept the can of coffee from Seungcheol. He assesses the latter over the rim of the drink. “Are you sure you’re going to be okay driving them back to campus?”

With a few sips of caffeine in him, Seungcheol does seem more awake. “Yeah, it’s fine. I need to swing by a few places, anyway.” He pauses, blinking slowly. As if seeing the people in front of him for the first time, he states, “You’re awfully alert for six in the morning.”

A sly smirk crosses Wonwoo’s expression, and he takes a sip of the coffee. “I had a good night.”

Even though nothing happened, when Seungcheol raises a brow in Junhui’s direction and Hansol pokes at his ribs with that lopsided grin of his, a blush inexplicably spreads across the third year's face. He clears his throat quietly and shuffles his feet, choosing to not make eye contact with _anyone_. 

Thankfully, the teasing doesn’t progress further, and before he knows it, Seungcheol is grabbing his keys and jacket, as he ushers the boys toward the front door. Hansol is on his second carton of chocolate milk, and Junhui makes a promise to repay Mingyu for the trouble despite the others assuring him it’s unnecessary. They all put on their shoes and head out, including Wonwoo. It’s a little odd, but Junhui figures he wants to accompany Seungcheol to wherever the senior is stopping by afterward, and doesn’t think much of it.

The four of them make their way to the parking lot, with the guests walking in the back, arms linked. Junhui is too preoccupied with planning out his task list for the day to notice the looks from a certain rapper thrown at him and his companion. 

When they get to the car, Wonwoo opens the passenger door, only to pause and sigh. Junhui and Hansol poke their heads around the side to glimpse at a couple gym bags with rackets and a baseball bat sticking out of the partly zipped top.

“Can you pop the trunk?” Wonwoo asks, reaching for the straps.

But Seungcheol counters, “There’s no room. My laundry’s in the back.”

“Wow. Does this mean you’ve grown tired of stealing our clean clothes?”

The senior gasps, offended, as he stammers, “I do not steal your clothes! I’ve just been… borrowing a few things.” The last part is mumbled as he glances at Junhui and Hansol. “Just…! Just get in the car.” To avoid further embarrassment, he climbs behind the wheel and slams the door.

Wonwoo raises a brow and shakes his head, but refrains from further comments. 

And that’s how Junhui ends up sandwiched between Wonwoo and Hansol, with the rapper’s hand on his knee and Hansol’s phone digging into his hip, when Seungcheol starts the engine and drives out of the lot. 

For the most part, the ride is pleasant; Hansol and Seungcheol fill the quiet early morning air with easy conversations, topic struck by the gym bags monopolizing the front seat. Apparently Seungcheol used to be part of the school team, but after a minor injury last season, he decided to “retire” and continue to the enjoy the games recreationally only. 

In perfect Hansol fashion, the kid bops his head along to a silent tune only audible to his ears, as he listens to Seungcheol’s anecdotes. Junhui smiles and laughs along, adding occasional comments to the colorful tales. The hand on his knee hasn’t moved, but its owner has maintained a steady rhythm at the tips of his fingers, face turned to stare through the window. Wonwoo doesn’t offer any remarks, most likely from having heard these stories plenty of times before. Either that or he’s falling asleep with his eyes open. When Junhui tries to check, though, he receives a poke to the neck and a cheeky grin.

“I was just checking if you’d fallen asleep,” he says around a pout, nudging his shoulder against Wonwoo’s.

The latter chuckles and squeezes the knee underneath his hand. “You’re the one who should be worried about falling asleep, kitten,” he comments, voice taking on an exaggerated catastrophic tone. “What would your perfect record say if you doze off in the middle of class?”

“Heyyy…” Junhui pokes him a couple times in the thigh, but laughs softly. 

Wonwoo responds with a fond smile, absentmindedly fixing the purple strands sticking up. When he drops his arm, though, instead of repositioning it next to him, he rests it over Junhui’s shoulder and keeps it there for the rest of the ride. Junhui doesn’t mind the least bit.

 

“Thank you so much for the ride!” Junhui tells Seungcheol a few minutes later, following Hansol out of the car.

The older rolls the window down and smiles at the pair. “It was no trouble at all. You kids have a good day at school!”

Junhui stifles a laugh, musing over how Seungcheol turned from older brother to father with a single statement. He spares a quick glance toward Wonwoo. The rapper has moved the gym gear to the backseat and rounding up toward the driver’s side. From the way his lips twitch upward, Junhui guesses he caught onto the reason why Junhui seems so amused.

Wonwoo gestures toward Seungcheol. “Move over, I’ll drive.”

“What? Why?”

But the younger doesn’t even bother explaining before he opens the door and jerks his head. “Don’t be difficult. The showcase is in a little over two weeks; we can’t perform in casts and neck braces.”

Seungcheol rolls his eyes, but relents and hands over the steering wheel. “I’m surprised you let me drive you and the kids at all, Worry-Woo.”

_Guess Jeonghan’s not the only one who refers to them as ‘kids,’_ Junhui muses as he watches Seungcheol relocate to the other side of the car, repressing a giggle at the nickname.

Worry-Woo looks askance at his band leader, but doesn’t add any remark to it. Before getting behind the wheel, he turns toward Junhui and nods at him. “See you around, Pretty Boy.”

“Bye. Please, take care.”

Wonwoo chuckles, reassuring him with a nod. 

With a wave of the long sleeves, Junhui turns around and grabs Hansol’s wrist. The two make a dash for their respective buildings.

As soon as he enters the apartment, he fishes his phone out of his pocket to check the time to see how much he has to spare before class starts. Only to be met with an unresponsive black screen. _Of all the time to run out of batteries._ He scrambles through the living room, seeking that spare charger Jihoon keeps around. While his phone returns to life, Junhui sneaks into his room to grab some clothes, grateful for his roommate’s heavy sleeping habit, then heads for the shower. 

He’s told Hansol that he’ll bring whatever the latter left behind to lab, saving him a trip and valuable time. Junhui’s mind is ticking off the tasks on today's list as he opens the bathroom and hurries to the coffee table, attempting to shove everything into his bag. Barely has he finished, that one of the bedroom doors opens and someone walks out. Before Junhui can turn to see which roommate would emerge, he’s assaulted by a body slamming into him, sending both of them sprawling on the carpet.

“Junnie!” Soonyoung shouts, arms tightening around his shoulders for a second before pulling him up to a sitting position. “Where did you go?” Warm and slightly clammy hands pat his cheeks as if checking that he were truly there, and Junhui takes the opportunity to finally get a good look at his roommate’s face. With furrowed brows and a frown, the latter continues in a frantic voice, “How could you just… disappear like that? I was ready to call the police and file a missing person’s report if you didn’t show up this morning!”

"I'm fine. Calm down." Putting his hands around Soonyoung’s wrists, he opens his mouth to attempt to explain, but then the second door creaks, and Jihoon storms out.

“Where the hell have you been?” the musician demands, eyes wide, blond bedhead in complete disarray. Jihoon’s never been good with emotions. And so concerns and worry are often channeled into rage and anger. His hands are balled into fists, and his chest is heaving. The old t-shirt hangs loosely over his small frame, but Junhui’s never felt more intimidated by the smaller boy before in his life.

He fidgets under the harsh stare. “I’m sorry,” he squeaks out, eyes darting from one flatmate to the other. His shoulders droop, voice coming out tiny, “There was an emergency…” 

“What kind of emergency?” comes the immediate question.

Deciding that telling them he took Hansol to Wonwoo’s apartment in the middle of the night to help treat wounds from a bar fight might not be a good idea. So he stalls, “Um… how did you even know I was gone?”

Soonyoung answers, “I woke up to get water, and the living room was empty. I figured you guys went out for snacks or something, since your stuff was still here.” He gestures toward the open backpack. “But then you never came back, and neither one of you picked up our calls. We tried Seungkwan, and he said he hasn’t seen you since this afternoon. Somehow, Jeonghan found out, and he was ready to call the campus police to look for you.” 

“Oh.” Guilt gnaws at his insides, and Junhui curls in on himself even more. He glances at his phone charging on the corner of the table. “My battery died.” When he unlocks it, more than forty notifications flash across the screen: missed calls, voicemails, texts, group messages… He bites his lip, looking up at his friends sheepishly. “I’m really sorry, I didn’t… think.”

The sincerity in his tone and action must have been enough to convince Jihoon, because the music major sighs, and in the same breath, his shoulders finally relax. He runs a hand through his unruly hair. The icy fury melts. “Where did you go in the middle of the night?” he asks, gentler. 

Junhui scratches at his ear, hiding the nervousness shaking his hands by resuming packing his bag. “Um, a friend needed help.”

“A friend,” Jihoon repeats, incredulous. “Who?”

He flinches. Even without looking, he can feel the expectant gazes of his friends boring into his skull. Taking in a deep breath to steady his nerves, he opens his mouth, tongue already rolling to form the syllables, when he lifts his eyes and sees the oven clock instead.

“Shoot!” He jumps to his feet, startling both boys on either side of him. “I’m late! I promise I’ll explain later!” Grabbing his things, he runs out of the door and escapes. 

On the way, he swings by the dinning hall to buy two muffins and coffee, then rushes to York Hall, where he almost crashes into Hansol standing by the railing in front of their lab.

“Woah!” the boy steadies him by the shoulders. “Slow down. The TA isn’t here, yet.”

“Lucky for us,” Junhui sighs, sagging against the metal bars in relief more than exhaustion. “Here.” He hands Hansol the breakfast, watching with fondness as the younger’s eyes brighten up at the sight of food. 

“You’re the best!”

Junhui laughs and opens the plastic to start on the small snack, too. After a few bites, he takes out his phone and starts scrolling through the group chat, wincing at he panic their friends went through because of them. _Because of him_ ; Hansol wasn’t at fault. There’s a new message from Jihoon telling everyone that Junhui is safe. Judging from the lack of follow-up questions, he figures everyone else is still asleep. Now might be a good time to tell them. It's always safer to hide behind a screen, right? Especially when the audience is asleep and can't yell at you immediately.

“Hansolie, did you check the chat?” he asks, turning to the side to see Hansol sitting on the ground, earphones halfway to their destination.

“No...” he replies slowly, “Did something happen?”

Junhui smiles wryly. “You’re lucky you don’t room with any of our friends,” he murmurs, then explains what occured this morning when he returned to the apartment.

“Ohh…” The boy raises his brow. “Yikes. So are you gonna tell them we snuck out to see your boyfriend?”

“Hey!” He nudges the boy’s shoulder with a knee, ear tips burning, but that only prompts Hansol to laugh harder. Chewing on his lip, he muses, “I should say something, though.” 

“Seungkwan’s gonna freak!” he snickers. “Oh man, I almost wish I could be there when he sees it.”

“Almost?”

“Well, he’ll most likely blame me for encouraging it instead of stopping you, so yeah. 'Chwe Vernon Hansol! You should be ashamed! Acting like an accomplice!'” He snickers again at his impression of Seungkwan. But then, a shrug. “I’d prefer to stay here, where it’s safe.”

“Aww.” Junhui drops to sit next to his lab partner and hugs the boy to his side. “I’ll protect you!”

Smirking, Hansol looks up at him. “Would that be before or after you run away from him?”

The two laugh, and Junhui pulls up the chat to start typing. “We might have to find some place to hide from him and Jeonghan.”

Hansol laughs, but nods thoughtfully. “Our friends are scary.”

“Very.”

 

 

“We should invite them to dinner!” is what Jeonghan suggests that evening when the whole gang gets seated at the empty corner of the dinning hall of choice. It’s OVT tonight, because apparently the senior wanted an ocean view to go with today’s fish special. 

Initially, more than half of the group had griped and complained about the long walk to get to the particular cafeteria, but now that they’re sitting under the bright fairy lights, with a soft salty breeze blowing through their hair, staring out at the calming waves, the trek was more than worth it. The sight is so mesmerizing, Junhui almost doesn’t hear Jeonghan’s comment.

He stops the piece of fish stick halfway to his mouth. “What?”

Earlier today, after receiving a thorough lecture from Jeonghan that left his ears ringing for at least two hours afterward, the senior had found him after his Humanities class and bought him lunch. Of course Junhui knew it wouldn’t come freely, so he had mentally prepared himself for the interrogation that followed. He didn’t hide much, just a few personal details. All in all, Jeonghan had seemed satisfied, if not rather perplexed over the fact that Wonwoo didn’t try anything improper. The conversation soon turned away from the previous night, and the two ended their free hour huddled over Jeonghan’s phone, laughing as the senior played that vocal game he’s so fond of.

So really, why is he bringing this up now?

Most of the mouths at the table are too full to reply, so they all blink toward the senior in lieu of a response, waiting for him to elaborate. Which he does with a small smile. “I want to meet these fine gentlemen.”

Seungkwan swallows, waving his hands in the air. “What are your true intentions?” 

“What do you mean?”

“You sound like a mother demanding to meet her son’s boyfriend,” Minghao comments around a swig of orange juice. 

Pursing his lip, Jeonghan seems thoughtful. “Well, I guess it’s not an inaccurate comparison.”

Hansol cackles, while Junhui groans.

“At least he admitted it,” Jisoo sounds impressed, taking a gulp of water.

“Wait, so what does that make me?” Seungkwan wonders, suspicions apparently forgotten for the time being.

Minghao replies right away, “Wonwoo’s bratty, but overly protective, future sister-in-law.”

“Hmph! He hasn’t gotten our approval to marry Junnie yet!”

Junhui wants to hide under the table, but since he can't, he presses his sleeves against his face.

“So you’re not denying the bratty part?” Soonyoung snorts.

Before Seungkwan can retort, however, someone else cuts him off. “Ooooh!” Seokmin exclaims with a grin, arm shooting up like he’s in class. “I want a nickname, too!”

This time, the name-giver does take a second to ponder, tapping his chin thoughtfully as he studies the bright expression of his peer. “Hmm… How about weird and overly happy and nice cousin?”

“I’m the weird cousin?” the vocal major cries out. “That’s so mean!”

“I said ‘overly happy and nice’ too, didn’t I? Besides, everyone at this table is weird. That should go without saying.”

“If anything,” Soonyoung adds his two-cent from Junhui’s left, “ _You'_ d be the weird cousin. Actually, no. You’d be the snarky little brother who beats up everyone who looks at him funny, but actually has a heart of gold.”

Mutual agreement circulates around the group, even if Jihoon points out that it’s not exactly a nickname.

Minghao rolls his eyes, though, chewing on the straw of his juice box. “No offense, but I don’t want to be part of this family.”

A collective gasp is heard as all eyes turn round. Even Hansol stops eating, jaw hanging slack. The noisy chatter and clatter in the dinning hall turns muted, and a tense silence hangs over their heads.

“Minghao…” Junhui says softly after a minute. He might be overly sensitive, but his eyes start to sting, regardless.

“That was uncalled for,” Jihoon voices, brows furrowed. 

“I raised you better than that!” Having recovered from the shock, Jeonghan scolds. As punishment, he takes away the chocolate pudding from the dance major. “No dessert for you.”

“You guys don’t know how to take a joke,” Minghao mumbles, looking regretfully at his pudding now sitting on Jeonghan’s tray. “I thought I was the rebellious kid.”

“Ahhhh!” Soonyoung shouts, startling Junhui. He points at the dancer, grin breaking across his face. “That’s the word I was looking for!” Then he snickers and nods in approval. “Nice one, Hao.”

The boy seems a little uncomfortable at the praise, averting his gaze from the relieved sighs from the group. “Yeah, sure. Can I have my pudding back?”

Jeonghan purses his lips. “I _should_ still take it away, but I’ll let it go for now, because I still love you.”

“Gross!”

Instead of getting angry, the self-claimed mother of the group reaches over and ruffles his hair. While he jerks his head away, there’s a small smile on his lips.

“Okay,” Soonyoung claps his hands, then points to his chest. “Next.”

“Isn’t it kinda obvious?” Seokmin chimes up. “You and Junnie are the twins.”

Seungkwan agrees. “Yeah, except he’s the good twin, and you’re the bad one.”

Junhui stifles a laugh at Soonyoung’s offended and shocked expression. “Why?!”

“Well, Jun can’t be the bad twin. He’s the Golden Boy! You on the other hand…” The vocal major shakes his head in genuine disappointment.

Muttering under his breath, Soonyoung shoots Seungkwan a dirty look. “I might not be up to Golden standards, but I’m least Silver!”

“That doesn’t even make any sense,” Jihoon comments.

“I see how it is!” he screams, mock anguish evident as he seeks comfort in his neighbor, clinging to him. “You’re the only one who loves me, Junnie!”

Laughing, the latter wraps an arm around his 'sobbing’ roommate and alternates between gentle pats and consoling rubs. 

“Who’s left?” Seungkwan looks around. “Jisoo is the only sane and responsible adult.”

“Hey! I’m responsible, too!” Jeonghan argues.

“Mm, debatable,” Jisoo responds. 

In a great show of maturity, Jeonghan gives him the stink eye. 

“Jihoon is the genius,” Seokmin continues. “What’s that word again? Savant!”

“How come he gets a nice one?” Soonyoung protests, while Jihoon snickers. Junhui gives him some more pats and offers him his piece of strawberry shortcake.

“That leaves Hansol,” Seungkwan gestures toward the boy on Junhui’s other side. 

At that moment, the third year feels a tug on his sleeve and turns to see Hansol gesturing toward the carton of milk on Junhui’s tray. Without hesitation, he picks it up and moves it toward Hansol, who simply leans forward and takes the straw into his mouth, not even bothering to hold up the carton. With a fond look, Junhui ruffles his hair and smiles. 

The others’ voices reach his ears. “Kinda obvious, no?” Soonyoung comments. “Hansol’s the favorite little brother.”

“Hm?”

“Clearly,” Jeonghan says, cheek resting on a fist as he chuckles at the boys. “You always dote on him so much, it’s adorable.”

Junhui turns pink from the attention, and Hansol laughs, finishing up the milk. 

They continue their meal with the usual banter, and the topic of the dinner doesn’t get brought back until they’re about to clean up and move on to their study sessions and practices.

“Let’s plan it for next Saturday,” Jeonghan proposes. “We’re all free then, right?” He looks toward Minghao for confirmation, since the dancer often uses the weekend for extra practices.

“When you say ‘them’,” Minghao says instead, “Does it include the giant puppy?”

“Yes.”

“Then can I be excused?”

“No.”

Minghao makes a face, but doesn’t add anything further. 

“Shouldn’t we—and by ‘we’ I mean Jun—check if they’d be okay with that?” Soonyoung notes. “Don’t they have shows or whatever?”

Junhui shrugs and shakes his head. “I don’t exactly know their schedules…”

“Best to check, then,” Jihoon recommends. “It would kind of defeat the purpose if they don’t show up.” 

Truth be told, Junhui still isn’t all that thrilled about the idea. Who knows what the group will do—probably something embarrassing, if he has to guess. But at the same time, he’d really like to have Mingyu and Minghao in the same space for at least an hour. Perhaps they could develop a friendship, if nothing more. Junhui knows Minghao wouldn’t have brought up Mingyu for nothing. If he truly didn’t care, then the thought wouldn’t even have crossed his mind. So there's hope for Mingyu yet, and that makes Junhui happy.

More than potentially playing matchmaker, though, Junhui is more curious about Wonwoo’s and Soonyoung’s past. His roommate has downplayed it several times, but there is clearly something about it that bothers Wonwoo. With luck, this might be the opportunity to find out more. Junhui just hopes the night won’t end in a disaster.

 

 

Along the course of the following week, the plans turn more concrete. Wonwoo had seemed surprised by the invitation, but he accepted on behalf of his friends. It was then decided that the dinner would be held at Junhui’s apartment, since it was the most convenient, and each person volunteered to bring one thing or another. Technically, since Soonyoung, Jihoon, and Junhui would act as hosts, the group had agreed that the boys didn’t have to do anything aside from setting up, but Junhui wanted to feel more useful ~~and maybe impress a certain rapper~~.

Thus on Saturday, he decides to browse the grocery store for ingredients, hoping inspiration will strike once he sees what’s available. It’s fortunate that aside from Wonwoo’s 'no seafood’ rule and Minghao’s reluctance to eat cold noodles, the dinner guests are rather easy to please. It certainly opens up a lot of options. 

By the time he exits the store, ugly gray clouds have begun to pull thicker overhead. Junhui frowns and pulls his hood up, retrieving the umbrella he’s stashed in his bag in foresight. His prediction becomes true about ten minutes later. Small and cold drops start to hit his nose and hands, increasing in speed and number by the second. He takes refuge under the thin layer of cloth, gripping the handle a little tighter to accommodate for the hurling winds. Around him, people scurry, some exclaiming cries of surprise, others curse the fickle weather. Junhui just tries to continue walking without plowing into anyone by accident, due to the fact that he’s been forced to dip his umbrella in order to avoid getting pelted by the freezing drops. 

It works for about five minutes, until he reaches the deserted bus stop. A change in the direct of the wind blows his umbrella backward like in the cartoons. He lets out of a surprised yelp, shocked and shivering from the sudden downpour, drenching him almost immediately. The storm is unrelenting and unforgiving of the poor student struggling to rectify the sorry state of his only means of protection against the weather. No matter what he tries, the mechanism seems to have been broken off. Every time he straightens the top out, it bounces upward at the incoming gust. Junhui is ready to cry in frustration. 

There’s no telling when the bus will finally arrive, and he has a feeling that if he stays here any longer, he’s going to drown. His toes are already numb, and his clothes are sticking to his skin, wet, cold, and heavy. He grits down on his teeth to keep the chattering to a minimum. Tossing the damn broken umbrella in the nearest trash can, he runs a shaking hand through his dripping hair. The smart choice is to find an awning of some kind to keep out of the rain, first. Then he’ll think about calling Jisoo for a ride. If in the meantime the rain lets up, then he won’t have to bother the senior. 

Across the street, he spots a music store with only a couple people taking refuge, as compared to the crowd huddled under the bistro nearby. Junhui braces himself and makes a run for it, keeping his face downturn. Fortunately, Junhui makes it to his destination without trouble. The girl and her companion there give him a sympathetic smile, and she hands him some tissues to wipe his face. He thanks them sincerely, and they all lapse into silence, staring out at the pelting rain. The sound would normally relax him, but he's too busy shivering to register much. If he gets sick because of this, Jeonghan will probably make Jisoo chauffeur him everywhere. Just at the thought, he grimaces and shuts his eyes. 

At that moment, the door behind them opens from inside, setting off the little bell. Junhui jolts lightly, but simply spares a glance and shuffles to the side to let the customer or whoever go through. He’s still in the midst of wishing for the rain to stop soon, when a deep voice interrupts his thoughts and genuinely startles him. A shiver runs down his spine even before he turns fully around. 

“Junnie? What are you—You’re soaked!”

Wonwoo grabs him by the shoulders and peers at him, surprise quickly morphing into displeasure. 

“I’m f-fine,” Junhui replies, then kicks himself mentally for letting the chattering show the white lie. 

The crease between the dark brows deepen as Wonwoo clicks his tongue, shoving whatever he’s been holding into the pocket of his jacket. “How long have you been standing here?” he wants to know, cradling Junhui’s face into his hands. _So warm._ The rapper doesn’t wait for an answer before he clicks his tongue again, clearly angry now.

Junhui instinctively pulls away, but the other boy grabs his wrist and starts tugging him around the block. “Wonwoo, wait!”

“If we wait any longer you’re going to catch pneumonia. Now come on.”

They hug the wall, protected by the ledge of the second story, and arrive at the back lot. Wonwoo pulls out a set of keys and unlocks a familiar car parked a few feet away. When they get inside, Junhui shifts around on the seat, not knowing how to keep himself from soaking the seat. 

“Just relax, kitten,” Wonwoo says from next to him, turning the heater on and checking the fans before pushing them all toward Junhui. “Are you warmer?”

“Yeah,” he answers in a small voice, but he’s still too tensed.

“Don’t worry about the upholstery,” the driver says, still eyeing the fidgeting boy. “It’s been through a lot worse. Now sit still and put your seatbelt on.”

Junhui obeys meekly, pulling on the sleeves as something to occupy himself with. “Thank you,” he says once they pull into traffic.

Wonwoo hums, checking the road before making a turn. “Why would you venture outside in this weather without proper protection, Junnie? How many times have I asked you to be more careful?” 

There’s real concern underlying the harsh voice, and so Junhui swallows the defiant retort. Instead, he waits a beat, then explains, “My umbrella broke when I got to the bus stop. And then the storm picked up.”

Letting out a deep sigh, he glances at Junhui and shakes his head. Taking advantage of the traffic, he reaches over to squeeze an icy hand, meant to reassure and comfort. The car flow starts again, and he removes his hand. The car moves forward at a steady pace. 

“I don’t know if you’re the luckiest or most unfortunate person around, Pretty Boy.”

Junhui furrows his brows in confusion. He casts a look over to search for any hidden meaning, but Wonwoo's expression is clear. “What do you mean?”

“This is the third time I’ve caught you before you got into serious trouble.”

A pause while Junhui rewinds all the encounters the two have had so far that would fit that criterion. There was the first night at the festival, and today. What’s the other instance? He voices as much, to which Wonwoo smirks.

“Am I that unforgettable?”

_Definitely not_ , Junhui thinks, but he’s not about to admit it out loud. “Are you just teasing me again?”

It’s a full chuckle this time. “The library.” A glimpse. “I saved you from wandering around aimlessly and potentially attracting the attention of the creeps loitering in the basement level. They’d probably have caught you and made you their god or something.”

A laugh escapes, and Junhui presses a hand over his mouth. “It’s not nice to mock them like that.”

Wonwoo shoots him a look. “Kitten, I know you’re sheltered, but there’s no way you haven’t seen them.”

Still trying not to laugh, Junhui says, “They’re just… different.”

“Mm,” he hums. “See, that’s another reason why they’d worship you, Pretty Boy.” 

“Hey!” Despite it all, Junhui can’t keep the giggles from slipping out.

Stopping at the light, Wonwoo remarks with a cheeky grin, “I’d apologize, but it made you laugh, so I’m not _that_ sorry.” 

Junhui’s response is immediate. His cheeks flush bright red, heedless of the cold clinging to his body. He mumbles a quick ‘thank you’ and averts his gaze to the window. He hears Wonwoo’s deep chuckle over the pelting rain hitting the glass all around them. It’s only now, when he’s paying attention to the road, that he notices this is nowhere near his apartment.

“Um… Are we lost?”

“What?”

“This isn’t the way to campus.”

Wonwoo makes another turn. “Because we’re not going there. It’d take too long, and you need to change into something dry ASAP.”

Craning his neck, Junhui tries to look through the pouring rain. The mall isn’t in this direction, either. And then it hits him. The familiar streets and buildings coming into view right before Wonwoo parks the car in front of the apartment complex. “You’re taking me to your place.”

“Mhm.”

While Junhui sits in stunned silence at the realization, Wonwoo gets out and grabs the grocery bags from the back. The noise snaps Junhui out of the daze, and he follows the rapper into the lobby. Without the heat from the car, the cold starts to creep in again, even when he’s not moving as they ride in the elevator. A simple breeze from the air current is enough to make him shiver. The sound of his teeth chattering prompts his companion to glance over. Not saying a word, he simply reaches over with his free hand and clasps Junhui’s, squeezing it rhythmically to force the blood to pump. A different sort of warmth spreads through Junhui’s body, and he hides the smile blooming across his lips behind the collar of the damp hoodie.

The apartment is empty when Wonwoo lets them inside, which causes Junhui’s nervousness to spike slightly. But he reminds himself that he’s been found in more compromising situations than this with Wonwoo before, and the latter hasn’t tried to pull anything on him. _It’s okay._ He trusts Wonwoo. 

After dropping the grocery bags on the kitchen table, Wonwoo leads Junhui by the hand toward his bedroom. He grabs a towel and starts to gently pat the wet purple strands dry, mindful not to apply too much pressure. Through the gaps and shifts of the towel, Junhui glimpses at his serious expression, utterly focused on the task. Despite the trembles and teeth chattering, a pleasant flutter settles in Junhui’s chest upon witnessing the care.

"You're like a lost little kitten caught in the rain," Wonwoo muses with a small smile, hands sure and dependable.

Maybe it's the fact that they're alone. Maybe it's just the overflowing emotions. Junhui isn't sure of the cause, but he finds himself replying, "But you found me."

The movements stop briefly, long enough for Junhui catch the gentle smile dancing on the other's lips. He resumes the task. "Yeah, I did." 

Once water no longer drips down from the ends, Wonwoo lowers the towel and lightly wipes the moisture on Junhui’s forehead and cheeks. His gaze and smile are incredibly fond as he sighs, resting his hand around Junhui’s face. His thumb strokes over the cheekbone, grin stretching.

“Looks like some color has returned, finally,” he comments with gratefulness.

Junhui flushes, knowing it has more to do with the ministration than the warmer apartment. “Thanks,” he murmurs, averting his eyes to the ground, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. He hears Wonwoo’s deep chuckle.

The towel is removed and dropped haphazardly on the edge of the bed. “Alright, Pretty Boy. Time to get you out of those clothes.”

His stomach flips as he snaps his eyes upward. “What?” 

But Wonwoo just smirks, caressing his chin, as he turns toward the dresser. “Gotta say, I expected to say those words in a very different circumstance.” He takes out a set of clothes and hands it to the shivering kitten. “The bathroom’s down the hall,” he indicates with a head jerk and another teasing grin.

“Oh.” Accepting the stack of clothes, Junhui tries to will his burning cheeks away from sheer will. It doesn’t work very well, and he ends up awkwardly mumbling out “Okay.” Still very much flustered, though, it takes him a few seconds to actually turn away.

“Let me know if you need any help changing, Pretty Boy,” comes Wonwoo’s voice once Junhui is halfway to his destination. 

“Uh. I’ll be okay!” he replies right away, then flees, hearing the familiar chuckle before he locks the bathroom door.

When he exits, the comforting and sugary smell of hot chocolate drifts through the air. Junhui takes in a lungful, smile stretching across his lips as he finds Wonwoo in the kitchen, stirring two mugs at the counter. The latter glimpses over when he senses Junhui’s arrival, and he nods in approval at the outfit. There’s a glint there, a secret satisfaction that Junhui doesn’t quite grasp. Nothing outrageous stands out from the borrowed clothes: a pair of dark washed jeans with small rips at the knees, a gray thermal, and a thick navy hoodie that has the name of a book club Wonwoo’s obviously been part of. Whatever caused the secret smirk, the owner doesn’t seem inclined to share.

“Are you still cold?” he wants to know, handing over a mug.

Junhui shakes his head, cupping the drink in his hands and letting the warmth seep through. “I’m fine now. Thank you.”

“You don’t have to thank me for every little thing, kitten,” Wonwoo points out with a laugh.

“But it’s the polite thing to do!”

Wonwoo cracks a smile, eyeing the goodie-two-shoes over the rim of the mug. “Okay.”

After a moment of comfortable silence, the rapper leans back against the counter and indicates toward the bags. “Is that for tonight’s dinner?”

“Oh, right.” He sets the mug down next to him and rummages through the bags until he pulls out a pack of chocolate milk. "I was planning on giving it to Mingyu tonight, but since I'm already here."

"We told you," Wonwoo sighs, yet accepts the items. "You didn't have to repay him."

"I wanted to, though. It's okay."

While Wonwoo puts the pack away, Junhui  throws a quick look out the window, noticing the downpour having lessened significantly. “I should head home soon and get started on cooking,” he muses, turning back to his companion, hands fidgeting with the long sleeves by habit. “I’ll have your clothes washed and ready for you on Monday, is that okay?" 

“I’m in no hurry,” the other replies. He picks up their empty cups and sets them in the sink. “Do you want to leave now?”

Junhui blinks. “You want to come with me?”

“It’s up to you if you want some company while you cook, but I’m not letting you go out in this weather alone again.”

A giggle tumbles out of his mouth as he comments, “Seungcheol was right. You are a worrywart.”

The rapper frowns, but the amusement is evident in the shining eyes. “Now don’t go spreading rumors, kitten. I have a reputation to uphold.”

Junhui laughs and nods, bumping their shoulders together. “Of course.” But then he adds, a little cheeky. “It’s cute, though.”

He receives a poke to the waist in response. 

 

 

“So what are you planning on cooking, Pretty Boy?” Wonwoo wonders once they’re inside the apartment, and Junhui turns on the stove under the pot of water. 

The cook pulls a pasta box from the cupboard. “Just something simple: fettuccine Alfredo and ham.” He looks over to see his guest leaning on his elbows from across the counter. “Any objections?”

“None.” He grins.

Repressing the butterflies, Junhui nods and tries to appear unfazed as he takes out a knife and cutting board. “Do you want to help? Or actually, you can just watch tv or something. I don’t want you to get bored.”

“You could just entertain me, kitten.”

Junhui laughs. “Like pretend to be a cooking show host or something?”

“Sure.” A shrug. “Guide me through the process.”

“That’s embarrassing, though,” he whines, grabbing a few glass containers out of the cabinet. “I think I’ll just put you to work, instead.”

He glimpses over just in time to see a grimace pass over Wonwoo’s expression. “I don’t want to brag, but I once burned boiled eggs, so that might not be the wisest decision.”

Stunned, Junhui stares at him, not quite understanding how one would accomplish such a feat. Incredible, indeed. “Well, you could just peel garlic and shallots for me,” he suggests. Watching for the other’s reaction, he adds, “Even Soonyoung can do that.”

 Just as he expects, Wonwoo stiffens at the name. But it passes very quickly, almost indiscernible. Curiosity pricks Junhui’s skin, the need to know why Wonwoo seems so averse to the topic of his supposed childhood classmate. Soonyoung hasn’t mentioned anything even remotely close to some sort of feud or disagreement between the two. So what is the cause of the hostility from Wonwoo’s side?

“Is he going to be present tonight?”

“Yeah.” A beat. Junhui swallows. “Is that a problem?”

“Not at all.” The reply is very quick, as if he anticipated Junhui to ask. Not leaving room for further comments, he drums his hands on the counter and changes the subject. “So garlic and shallots, right? Put me to work, Chef Junnie.”

The so-called chef blows up his cheeks and lets the air out slowly, disappointed yet again. Reluctantly, he moves on and sets two glass bowls in front of Wonwoo and retrieves the ingredient from the little basket in the corner. “You can throw the peels in here.”

They set off to work in silence, only the sounds of Junhui’s knife slicing through the ham and the crinkling of the papery layers of the cloves fill the air. The water soon boils, and Junhui throws in the pasta, stirring occasionally, focus divided between Wonwoo and the Alfredo sauce he’s putting together. Obviously, even if one is inexperienced, peeling garlic and shallots doesn’t take nearly as long as preparing an entire dish. By the time Junhui drains the pasta, he backs up against a hard chest.

“Be careful!” he scolds to mask the flutter in his breathing. _Definitely too close_. “You can’t just sneak up on people when they’re cooking.”

“I was just trying to get a closer look,” Wonwoo replies with a smirk, lips grazing the shell of Junhui’s ears, which are quickly turning bright red. Something the rapper doesn’t fail to notice, indicative of his chuckle. “Besides, I’m done.” Reaching around, he purposely brushes his arm against the amateur cook’s in order to pull the glass container with the peeled cloves over.

Junhui swallows and shakes his head out of the daze. He picks up the little cup and examines the contents. “You left some,” he points out, tilting his head to meet the other’s gaze. “See?”

Instead of feeling remorse, Wonwoo merely shrugs and sets his chin over the broad shoulder in front of him. “I don’t have any fingernails.”

“Pfft.” Junhui pokes him. “That’s such a lame excuse.” When he attempts to take a step forward, he finds himself held back by the waist. _Serious déjà vu._ “Let go, please.”

"But I want to watch.”

Rolling his eyes, the cook lets out a laugh and shakes his head. “Fine. Then at least be a cooperative koala.”

A low chuckle tickles his neck, and he shudders, giving the sound more volume. “Alright, kitten.” Wonwoo wraps his arms around to the front and pats Junhui’s stomach once.

They stay like that for a good while. Initially, Junhui expects the koala to cause some inconveniences, but he’s surprised to realize that it’s not actually such a bad experience. And if he’s willing to admit it to himself, having Wonwoo’s warmth and scent surround him like this feels rather nice. Very nice. Cooking together is such a domestic past-time, he never imagined he’d one day find himself doing it with the campus bad boy of all people. The thought tugs the corners of his lips upward, and prompts a wave of pleasant flutters to wash through him. He feels safe and secure with the arms around his waist, happy and amused at Wonwoo’s occasional comments right next to his ear. If this happened every time he cooks, he wouldn’t mind doing it dayly. 

A phone goes off. Both jolt slightly from the foreign sound, but Junhui manages to remember the ringtone belongs to Jeonghan. He pats Wonwoo’s hands over his stomach. “Can you look over the sauce for a second? Just make sure it doesn’t boil.”

“Uh…” The rapper looks a little unsure, but he nods anyway. “Okay.”

“Thanks.” Junhui grabs the phone by the coffee table. “Hi, Jeonghannie.”

“Junnie, I’m at the bakery,” the older says over the low chatter around him. “Please help me convince Jisoo that we should get an actual cake. Or maybe two.”

“What does Jisoo want?”

“He wants to get everyone one of those little fruit tarts.”

“Those are fine,” Junhui replies, not really sure why Jeonghan would be so against them. “They’re pretty.”

“Yes, Junnie. They’re also tiny. Hansol would inhale the entire thing in one bite and wonder what happened to it.”

_Good point_. 

Jisoo’s voice comes on. “You might call them children, but they’re actually young adults, you know? It wouldn’t hurt to treat our guests with something sophisticated.”

_That’s a good point, too._

“Shua, I love them all to bits, but aside from me, Hoonie and Junnie, there’s nothing sophisticated about the bunch.”

“Hey! I resent that!” Junhui raises a brow at Minghao’s voice. “Jihoon’s addicted to coffee and has anger issues, while Jun’s a dork. If anything, Josh and I are the only normal ones.”

“Hush, both of you!” Jeonghan cuts through. “It’s rude to interrupt a phone call.”

A series of groans rush through, and Junhui suppresses a laugh. “You could just compromise. Get a small cake, and a few of those tarts. It’s just a casual dinner, after all.”

“Hmm…” From that tone, Jeonghan isn’t quite satisfied, but he’s probably willing to let it go. For now. “Fine. But only because I’m tired from standing.”

“A decision at last!” Minghao exclaims, full of sarcasm. "Can we hurry up? Chan's been blowing up my phone."

“Thanks, Jun!” Jisoo adds.

“You’re welcome!” He giggles.

Jeonghan comes back, “Alrighty, Junnie. We’ll pick up Chan and go to your place. Make Soonyoung help with the cleaning! Don’t do it yourself.”

Smiling, he nods even though the older can’t see him. “Don’t worry. We all cleaned up last night. See you soon!”

The moment he hangs up, he hears it. _Pop! Pop! Pop!_

He shoots to his feet and runs toward the kitchen, pushing a stunned Wonwoo out of the way to pick the saucepan off of the stove and onto the cooling rack. He stirs it with a spoon, checking. Thankfully, no damage is done, and it’s still edible.

“Sorry, it took me longer to—Oh.” When he turns to his sous-chef, Wonwoo has grabbed a paper towel and is wiping at the splatter on his face. “Are you okay? It was probably hot.”

“Is the sauce okay?” Wonwoo asks instead, chucking the paper into the trash. “I… honestly don’t know what happened.”

The confusion and slightly guilty look makes Junhui’s heart squeeze with affection, and he smiles. “It’s fine. I’m sorry about you and… your shirt.”

It’s only then that Wonwoo glances down. His black sweater is covered in Alfredo splatter. He blows out a breath, but still cracks a grin. “Can it be counted as battle scars?”

Junhui rolls his eyes, but laughs anyway. “Hold on, I’ll let you borrow a shirt.” He disappears into his room and grabs the first clean shirt he sees from the dresser and returns to the kitchen.

It’s not until Wonwoo holds it up and raises a brow that Junhui notices what’s on the front of the shirt. “Cat Army, huh?” he chuckles, staring at the adorable and fluffy kitten wearing a helmet printed on the fabric, equipped with all sorts of weapons and ammo. He pulls it over his head, covering the undershirt.

Junhui tugs on the sweater paws, chewing on his lip. “I could get you another one, if you’d prefer.”

But Wonwoo shakes his head, grin wide. “I like it. It looks a lot like you.”

The blush rapidly spreads across Junhui’s cheeks, and he ducks his head, navigating back to the counter to pretend to be busy. Truth is, there’s nothing else to do. They’d been cleaning up along the cooking process, so there wasn’t even any dishes to do. The dish wouldn’t need to be assembled until everyone is seated, so really, Junhui is just facing the wall to hide and avoid embarrassing himself further.

Of course, Wonwoo doesn’t let it go that easily. He mimics their earlier position, chin resting on Junhui’s shoulder, arms loosely wound around his sides. “So is it done?” 

Junhui nods. “Pretty much. We just need to wait for everyone to show up and serve it hot.”

“Mm.” The rumbling of the deep voice seeps through Junhui’s back, and he bites down on his lip to keep the shudder from being too noticeable. “Can I have a taste, then?”

Brows furrowing, he tilts his head to the side to see the rapper. “Really? You can’t wait another half hour or so?”

“It’s just a taste,” he says innocently. But there’s nothing innocent in the way he grazes the tip of his nose along Junhui’s neck. “Please, Junnie?”

If Superman’s weakness is Kryptonite, then Junhui’s would surely be those words. He can’t even believe how fast he yields to the demand. _Damn it, Jeon Wonwoo._ His heart thumps erratically as he nods and swallows, eliciting another smirk from the rapper. 

"Thank you, kitten," he says accompanied by a hug. 

Junhui reaches for a small plate and puts in a bite-sized amount of pasta, pouring over it the sauce along with the ham. “Here. Tell me if it needs more salt, since you’re already doing the tasting.”

Wonwoo glances at the extended plate, then flickers his eyes to Junhui’s. “Aren’t you going to feed me?”

Eyes blown wide, the other blinks in rapid succession. “What?” Even the implication is enough to make his heart race and his face to burn up again.

“My hands are busy.” And to prove his point, he tightens his arms around Junhui’s waist, hands squeezing a little. 

The latter narrows his eyes, but Wonwoo merely grins back, holding eye contact. 

“Please?”

Junhui cracks. “Fine.” As he turns to pick up the fork, the demanding koala chuckles in satisfaction. “Here.”

Wonwoo takes the bite and nods thoughtfully, chewing and savoring the taste. “It’s really good!”

“Yeah?” At the praise, a smile blooms, and he forgets all about the antics leading up to it. “Do you mean it?” He grabs a napkin and wipes at the sauce around Wonwoo’s mouth. "You don't have to be polite and say you like it."

“Mhm!” Another squeeze around his middle, before he rests their foreheads together. “Your cooking’s delicious, kitten.”

Barely has the blush left that it’s being summoned again. Junhui bites onto his lip, looking up shyly from beneath his lashes. “That seems a bit overconfident. You’ve only had one bite of one dish.”

A hand frees itself from its hold to come and stroke the warm cheek. “Maybe it’s a roundabout way of asking to do this with you more often.”

Junhui's face is definitely aflame now. He swallows, hoping it would suppress the butterflies in his stomach and somehow force his heart to beat normally again. When he opens his mouth to reply, though, a clatter from the door interrupts him. 

The boys barely have time to look over before the rest of the group pile into the apartment. 

The scene turns into a freeze-frame. 

“Uh…” Soonyoung laughs awkwardly, hand scratching the orange hair. "Should we come back later?”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welp! Looks like WonHui are in for a ride with the rest of SVT bursting on them =P  
> Will Jun finally find out about SoonWoo's childhood??? Will GyuHao actually happen???
> 
> Find out next time! XD
> 
> Thank you for sticking with me! ♥  
> \---
> 
> Hansol is Jun's baby. The milk thing actually apparently [happened](http://junhoontrash.tumblr.com/post/162934284613/according-to-op-vernons-own-drink-was-right-by). JunSol... the purest!
> 
> [Here's](https://twitter.com/vvantasy/status/900116033788407808) the shirt Jun was wearing. Isn't he just the cutest little kitty??? (the answer is yes)


	9. Temporary

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> WonHui have very meddlesome friends who enjoy teasing the couple too much. SoonWoo have a talk. Jun contemplates his life choices

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I AM SO SORRY IT TOOK ME THIS LONG TO UPDATE *cries*

 

Quickly scurrying away from Wonwoo’s arms, Junhui throws himself toward the group, grabbing the first takeout containers he sees. “Let me help!” Seokmin lets go easily, much more preoccupied with the rapper standing by the counter with his arms crossed. Junhui decides to ignore it, peeking at the delicious dishes instead, as he walks to the dining table to depositing them in the center.

Seungkwan pops up on his right with a few liters of soda, throwing him a very obvious and pointed look. He ignores that, too, turning away to help Jisoo put the dessert in the fridge. Thankfully, his friends’ attention doesn’t remain on him and Wonwoo for long after that, all busying themselves with setting out the dishes, grabbing utensils and dishware. While a few crowd around the dining table, another group takes charge of grabbing the fold-up chairs leaning against the wall. It’s fortunate that Jeonghan is such a lovable student council member; the school constantly lets him get away with borrowing their property.

It’s not until Junhui’s standing off to the side and doing a head-count that he realizes Wonwoo’s band is here, too. Seungcheol and Mingyu fit so well into the group, setting up and cracking jokes, one would think they’d been part of the same circle of friends from the beginning. It also helps that they’re not at all like their on-stage persona, much friendlier and warmer to the people around them. A small smile spreads across his lips as he observes them. 

“How did you guys manage to arrive all at the same time?” Junhui asks as the group starts to take their seats. He listens to Jeonghan answer as he grabs a large bowl from the cabinet to pour the pasta in.

“Pure coincidence! We just ran into each other in the lobby, and Hansol bridged the gap.”

“Aww. Good job, Hansolie!” 

The boy laughs, waving the praise off. Once he sees the dish Junhui brings to the table, though, his interest skyrockets. “Whoa! Pasta! That looks delicious!”

Similar comments are echoed, and Junhui smiles shyly, passing out the forks and napkins as he takes the empty seat, next to Jihoon and Hansol, opposite of Wonwoo. As always, he passes Jihoon his portion of rice, prompting Wonwoo to arch a brow.

“I don’t eat rice that much,” he explains, “So Jihoonie does it for me.”

Smirk playing on the corner of his lips, he teases, “And yet you refuse to admit you’re a baby?”

“Hmph.” To show him just how mature Junhui is, he sticks his tongue out.

Only that makes Wonwoo laugh, nose crinkling up. And that in turn, pulls a smile out of Junhui effortlessly. Luckily for them, the rest of the table is preoccupied with the distribution of the meat, and so their little exchange remains secret.

Now then, something else requires Junhui’s attention tonight other than the boy across from him. Or more specifically, two someones. Pretending to check if everyone has access to the different dishes, Junhui peeks to see where Mingyu and Minghao are in relation to one another. Unfortunately, the amateur matchmaker is disappointed to see that the second years aren’t siting next to each other, neither are they directly facing their potential partner. At least it’s only one person off, and Seokmin is a good buffer. Minghao usually tends to be nicer when he’s around. Hopefully.

Since they’ve already met downstairs, no introductions are needed, and easy conversation flows freely, switching narrator every so often. The room quickly fills up with laughter along with the fragrant smell of spices. Even as Junhui listens and participates in the different topics, he can’t help throwing looks at the other end of the table, attempting to see if there is any progress for Mingyu. It’s because he’s so involved in that particular pair, that he catches Soonyoung’s expression. 

It’s very quick and subtle, disappearing instantaneously. But in that split second, Junhui had managed to seize the moment his eyes hardened as they locked on Wonwoo’s stony expression. The happy and excited hamster returns immediately, though, and Junhui is left wondering what could have caused it. He spends the next several moments observing Wonwoo, since the latter is directly in his field of vision, making it less obvious. While the rapper does talk, and even laughs along to the conversation, he also keeps his eyes peeled toward his childhood friend. It’s as though he expects Soonyoung to do something outrageous, or more likely, _say_ something unfavorable. 

A crease forms between Junhui’s brows, and he chews on his lip. What would it take for either one of them to answer his questions truthfully and without evading details? 

His thoughts are disturbed by Seungkwan calling his name and asking for the stack of napkins. 

“Oh! Sorry, here you go.”

Jeonghan chuckles, reaching behind Jihoon to poke at Junhui’s neck playfully. “Daydreaming again?”

That look. That grin. Junhui would recognize the signs anywhere. If he didn’t find a plausible answer to reply with, the senior is going to tease him to bits. And he will have to end his evening hiding under the covers of his bed, which is admittedly, very uncool behavior in front of the guy he may or may not like a lot.

“N-no, uh...” he blinks, heart rate accelerating as he grasps at straws. The soft _pat pat pat_ on the glass panes save him from embarrassment. “The rain!” he exclaims, perhaps a little too loudly, but at least it drives his point across. “Uh, I was just listening to the rain,” he finishes with a small laugh, hoping it’ll be enough to deter his friend. 

“Oh, yeah!” Seungkwan, bless his soul, chimes up, “That reminds me, Hansol almost got us killed earlier!”

A collective of gasps and exclamations erupt, and every head turns to the boy next to Junhui, scratching his hair, lopsided grin turning sheepish.  

“That’s a bit much, though,” he protests weakly.

But his boyfriend is having none of it. He sets his mouth into a thin line and shakes his head in disapproval. “Not at all. My life flashed before my eyes!”

“What happened?” Seungcheol asks, eyes darting from one corner of the table to the other.

Now that Junhui is paying attention, he should have wondered why the pair weren’t sitting together tonight. 

“He almost drove us into a ditch off of the side of the freeway!” Seungkwan cries, pointing accusingly at the boy with a chopstick, eye twitching with mock anger. 

“Well, I did warn you that trusting him behind the wheel would be risky,” Jisoo says wisely. “But I’m glad you guys are okay, though. At least you were inside the car when the storm blew in, right?”

“Yes, _thankfully_ ,” Seungkwan emphasizes, stink eye still very much sharp. “Leave it to my bad luck to be stranded alone with him during a storm.” 

Hansol snickers, curling up his shoulders. “You weren’t complaining nearly as much in the car, though.”

At the suggestive wording, Seungkwan flushes bright red and quickly grabs his bowl, suddenly too busy shoving rice into his mouth to reply to the chuckles from the boys around the table. 

“What about you, Junnie?”

Taking his eyes away from the servings of grilled meats, Junhui focuses on Jeonghan. “Hm?” 

“Your hair is still damp. Did you get caught in the rain earlier?” 

Junhui isn’t sure if whether concern or the thirst for gossip that prompts Jeonghan’s comment. Maybe a little bit of both. “Umm… Yeah. But I was fine.” Unconsciously, his eyes dart toward Wonwoo. Realizing what he’d just done, he swiftly busies himself with serving out the portions to the bowls around him. 

Because of such, he misses the sly smirk stretching across the senior’s face as a twinkle sparks in his eyes. “So, Wonwoo,” he says casually.

Junhui flinches, screwing his eyes shut. Knowing that it was coming does not help. He risks a glance, peeking up from his downturned face to see Wonwoo look over at the other end of the table, face relaxed.

“Yes?”

“I forgot to thank you for coming early and helping Junnie out,” Jeonghan says. Again, Junhui couldn’t be sure how much of that statement is genuine and how of it is some kind of hook. “The pasta’s great.”

Wonwoo cracks a smile. “Thank you, but all the compliments to the chef,” he tips an imaginary hat toward Junhui, causing the latter’s stomach to flip. “I didn’t do much.”

“So why did you come here so early for?”

Surprising both of them, it’s not Jeonghan’s voice who asks the question. It’s his neighbor and Wonwoo’s band leader. Seungcheol sips on his soda. “Mingyu and I dropped by the apartment, and you were already gone.” 

Junhui did not expect the interrogation to be lead by Seungcheol. And based on the surprise on Jeonghan’s face, the feeling is mutual. Although, a smile quickly replaces the shock, and Junhui groans internally. Is he cursed to have meddlesome friends? 

Unlike him, though, Wonwoo remains calm, answering, “It was kind of a coincidence, actually. I ran into Junnie, and he was soaked, so I took him back to the apartment to change.” He looks to Mingyu. “Those chocolate milk boxes are from him, by the way.”

“Oh! Thank you!” Mingyu wipes his mouth with a napkin, too preoccupied with being polite that he doesn’t notice who hands it to him. Minghao shakes his head and returns to eating. “Really, you didn’t have to do that.”

Junhui smiles. “I was getting groceries anyway.”

Grabbing the second portion of rice, Jihoon throws him a disapproving look. “What happened to your umbrella?”

“Hm?”

The shorter boy points to Wonwoo. “He said he found you, soaked, in the streets. Why didn’t you carry an umbrella if you were going to the store?”

“I did!” he insists. “I’m not that much of a scatterbrained,” he mutters under his breath. “But it broke! I bet it’s because you kept using it to hit Soonyoung the other day.”

“Ah ha!” the victim shouts, mouth half-full of noodles. “So it’s _your_ fault Junnie was caught in the storm!”

Their flatmate clicks his tongue, glaring at both of them. “I didn’t hit him that hard.”

“Not the point!” Soonyoung refutes. “The point is, now you’ll have to stop abusing me.” 

Not missing a beat, the musician replies, “As soon as you stop stealing my notes.” 

“I do not steal! I _borrow_.”

“Yeah, and I don’t abuse. I reprimand.” Jihoon looks at Soonyoung and smiles sweetly.

The note ~~stealer~~ borrower frowns and throws a balled up napkin at Jihoon, which misses and lands behind him on the floor. 

“It’s pretty amazing that you two ran into each other,” Chan chimes in as he picks up a piece of chicken into his bowl, glancing at Junhui and Wonwoo. “I can’t even find Soonyoung and Minghao when we get separated at the mall.” 

“Mm,” Seokmin nods, smile bright. “Seems like Wonwoo just has a special talent in finding Jun no matter where.”

Seungkwan coughs, “ _Stalker.”_

“What was that?” Seokmin turns with confusion, but his fellow vocal major shakes his head and points to his throat. “Oh, here.”

The sneaky boy takes large gulps of water, but throws very obvious glares toward the supposed stalker at the end of the table. Junhui senses the embarrassment creeping up, and he steals a glance.

Wonwoo arches a brow, smirk playing on his lips. “What can I say? I suppose I just have knack for these things. But actually, it was the other around this time,” he starts to say, and dread instantly replaces the embarrassment. “Junnie’s the one who found me.”

“Is that so?” Jeonghan latches on immediately, pausing his conversation with the other seniors. “Tell me more.”

Flustered, Junhui attempts to explain the misunderstanding. “It’s really—”

But the treacherous troublemaker cuts in, “I was buying some guitar strings, and when I walked out, there he was. All wet and shivering.” He grins, head cocked to the side as he watches Junhui squirm.

Down the line, Mingyu coos, and Minghao snorts.

Even though he knows Wonwoo is merely teasing him—and that most of their friends probably are aware of it—he can’t help protesting weakly, “I didn’t even know you were there. I was just waiting out the rain.”

Wonwoo pretends to be hurt. “You mean it’s not because you saw me through the window and ran over? And here I was, so happy that you finally came to me for a change.”

The table roars into laughter, and the blush intensifies. Junhui pouts, vowing revenge as he glares at the boy in front of him. The latter shows no sign of fright. In fact, his grin widens in amusement, almost daring the sulking kitten to do something. Junhui angrily shoves food into his mouth. 

Keeping eye contact, Wonwoo grabs his drink and mouths, “Cute,” before tipping it back with a smirk.

Junhui contemplates kicking him under the table, but resorts to being a good host.

“Well, purposely or not,” Jisoo muses quietly, “It was a fortunate meeting. Who knows how long Junhui would have stood there otherwise.”

Laughing happily as he fights off Seokmin's and Chan’s chopsticks to get to the good meat, Soonyoung comments, “Wonwoo totally swept in and rescued Junnie like some knight in shining armor. A true hero!” he cackles, making their friends join in.

Junhui groans, expecting to hear some more cheeky remarks from the bad boy, but the deep voice he’s learned to adore so much doesn’t rise above the chatter. Curious, he looks back to the boy, only to see Wonwoo’s posture stiffening up. His lips form a thin line as he assesses Soonyoung through narrowed eyes. Again, the look only lasts a second, then his express returns to neutral. He doesn’t meet Junhui’s gaze.

Brow furrowed, Junhui chews on his lip, recalling the last thing his roommate said. _A true hero!_  Why is that particular sentence such a trigger? His mind spins, flashing through the memories he shares with Wonwoo, in an attempt to catch any clue. 

 

_We lived in the same neighborhood for a while, but then he moved away in middle school… Pretty sure his attitude got worse, though._

_Maybe something bad happened to him._

 

_Are you suggesting you’re dangerous?_

_That’s up for you to decide, I suppose._

 

_Are you hiding something?_

_Don’t we all?_

 

_If you’re here, then I can’t do anything reckless._

 

So absorbed in his own thoughts, he doesn’t get snapped out of it until his name is mentioned in the current conversation. 

“Wait,” Seungkwan interrupts, glancing from their friends to the boy currently awaiting for his approval. “So _that’s_ why Junnie's wearing his clothes.” He taps the end of the chopsticks against his chin pensively. “Huh…” 

Snickers go around the table, and Wonwoo smirks. Junhui blinks. “Um… what?” How long did he blank out?

“Oh, no. Nothing,” he second year says dismissively. “I was just curious, that’s all.” 

That doesn’t clear up anything. Still, Junhui shrugs, ready to change the subject to something not involving either him or Wonwoo. However, his friends don’t seem to share the same idea.

“It’s a nice hoodie. The design on the back is really intricate,” Jisoo comments. It doesn’t sound like a casual observation, though.

“Yeah,” Jeonghan nods, “Especially the name customization.”

Eyes blown wide, Junhui snaps his attention to the boy in front of him. Wonwoo smiles lazily, staring right at him as he comments, “Yeah. I never realized how much I liked this hoodie until Junnie put it on.”

“Damn,” Hansol exclaims under his breath, hidden by snickers. He pokes Junhui’s leg a few times, making the older squirm and reach for his hand to halt the assault.

Chewing on a piece of meat, Seungkwan mutters, “Well, that supports my first theory.”  

The wearer of the hoodie suddenly feels very warm. At least now he understands why Wonwoo had had such a self-satisfied look on his face earlier in the apartment. 

Not only has be been walking around in the guy's clothes (and probably smelling like him), he’s been wearing Wonwoo’s name on his back the whole time, too. It’s not that he doesn’t like it. The problem rests on the fact that he likes it _too much._

Mingyu groans and shakes his head in disapproval. “But that’s like, so… primal, though.” He shoots his bandmate a look. “Besides, you don’t need to label him as yours. We all know already.”

The heat rushes to Junhui’s cheeks so fast, he’s amazed he hasn’t passed out. Next to him, Hansol snickers again, but offers comforting pat on his thigh. He stares down at the plate of noddles, unable to meet anyone’s eyes.

Wonwoo speaks up, “You say that now, but just wait until you get a boyfriend. Then we’ll see.”

“Is that what you two are?” Minghao wants to know. Is it Junhui’s imagination, or does the second year sound too happy to divert the subject away from Mingyu having a boyfriend? To avoid having to think about him and Wonwoo, he chooses to think it’s a sign that Mingyu and Minghao might have gotten closer. A guy can hope, right?

“Who’s the one using labels now?” Wonwoo retorts.

Junhui risks a peek to see both Minghao and Mingyu frown and scowl. He can’t help giggling at the sight.

Unfortunately, he doesn’t get to laugh for very long.

“Considering they’re already sharing clothes,” Seungcheol teases, “I say it’s getting pretty serious.”

A groan escapes Junhui’s mouth as the rest of the table chuckle. He feels someone’s hand ruffling his hair, but he’s too busy hiding behind the sweater paws to see who it is. “Wonwoo was only being nice and considerate,” he muffles out.

In the midst of his own internal mental breakdown, Soonyoung’s voice breaks through with a laugh, “So did you want to repay the favor by giving him your shirt, Junnie?” he wonders. “By the way, isn’t that your favorite one, too?”

_Oh, dear lord… When are his friends going to let him live?_

Junhui presses his hands over his face, and looks through the gaps to mumble out an answer, “I had to go answer the phone, so I asked Wonwoo to watch the stove, and some spilled on his sweater.”

“You let him near an open flame in the kitchen?” Mingyu asks with befuddlement, blinking rapidly. “You guys are lucky the apartment isn’t on fire.”

Chuckles and various light criticism catch on, except for Wonwoo, who merely rolls his eyes. He fixes his bandmate with a severe glower. Whatever the hidden message means, it causes Mingyu to gulp and withdraw, making a face. “Asshole,” he mumbles. “That kitten shirt doesn’t fit you at all. Wish there was some way Jun’s cuteness could rub off on you instead.”

Dismissively, Minghao throws a look their way as he sips his soda. “Probably just needs to get laid.”

“Minghao!” Junhui all but shrieks. 

The group roars into laughter at his expense once more.

 

Fortunately for Junhui’s sanity, his friends eventually stop their merciless teasing. Smaller conversations take place among the group, and he’s glad to note that the budding couple appear to be having a good time, based on the puppy’s wide grin, and Minghao’s amused smile. In his head, Junhui fist-pumps. The seniors also seem to have hit off quite nicely. It’s funny to think now, but Jeonghan had been right when he claimed that most bad boys were actually huge softies at heart. Although in Seungcheol’s case, the rapper isn’t actually a bad seed; he just portrays himself that way on stage. At any rate, Jisoo certainly doesn’t appear particularly put off. In fact, he’s laughing quite a lot. Junhui doesn’t want to linger too much on the logistics of how those three would make things work out among them, but he does hope that the evening will progress nicely for them, too.

As the evening wears on, they clean up the empty containers and bring out dessert. Just as Jeonghan anticipated, Hansol all but swallows the small tartlet in one bite. Fondly, Junhui chuckles and brushes off the crumbs around his mouth, and the boy grins sheepishly. 

“This is why Seungkwannie keeps scolding you.”

Hansol laughs, curling up his shoulders. “I know, but I don’t mind.”

Reciprocating the happy gesture, Junhui pats the second’s head and hands him a piece of cake. “Now don’t let Jeonghan see you.”

“Sweet!” When the older gives him a look, he clasps a fist over his mouth. “Sorry. Thanks, Jun.” Very excitedly, he grabs a spoon and hightails it out of the area, making sure to hide behind Mingyu’s tall frame to avoid getting spotted by the group of seniors sitting by the couch.

“You coddle him too much,” Jihoon says as he passes him a plate.

He carefully drops a slice into the middle. Unfortunately, some frosting gets on his finger and he licks it off. “It’s fine. He’s still a kid.”

“He’s only two years younger than us,” his friend points out.

But Junhui waves it off. “Semantics. Here Seokmin. Can you find Soonyoung and give him his, too?”

“Thank you! And sure!” The sophomore gets a spoon for the both of them, then takes the next plate to go hunt the other goofball down.

Jihoon resumes their conversation. “Hansol could ask you to help him rob a bank, and you’d probably consider it.”

“I would not,” he replies. “That’s illegal! I’d lend him some money.”

At that response, Jihoon rolls his eyes, and Junhui laughs. “Funny.”

“You worry too much, Jihoonie.” Reaching up, he ruffles the blond hair affectionately.

The shorter boy clicks his tongue and moves away, but a small grin lingers on his lips when he combs his hair back with his hand. 

Afterward, Junhui studies the room to see how many more slices he needs to cut, only to see Seokmin sitting on the floor by the coffee table with the freshmen and Chan, playing a game of Uno. Soonyoung is nowhere in sight, and the extra piece of cake sits on the corner of the table. Odd, Junhui thinks, scanning the living room and kitchen. Orange hair isn’t something you can easily overlook. And sure enough, his roommate is nowhere to be seen. 

Thinking that perhaps he went to the bathroom, Junhui picks up his piece of cake and goes to sit with Team Uno. He waits until they finish the round, then they reset and deal him in. It’s not until they’re partway into the game that he remembers something very important. Or rather, someone. 

A chill of dread crawls up his spine as he looks behind his shoulders. The seniors are talking and laughing together; Mingyu has his head bent over a piece of paper, drawing something, while Minghao sits with his chin cupped in a hand, watching whatever his companion is doodling. Jihoon sits across from Team Uno, observing them play and throwing in comments. No Soonyoung. And more significantly, no Wonwoo.

He  hands Jihoon his deck. “Can you play for me? I, uh, I need to use the bathroom.”

His friends glance at him briefly, but thankfully don’t ask for more detail. He gives a tight smile then heads for the hall. Honestly, he has no idea what’s he’s expecting to find. He just hopes that the missing boys were honest when they said they didn’t have any bad blood between them. Wonwoo's proven himself unafraid of using his fists, and Soonyoung doesn't back down from a challenge, either.  _Please don't let a fight break out between them..._

As he takes the corner, indistinct voices drift out of the bedroom he shares with Soonyoung. The light spills out into the dim hallway through the gap. Wonwoo’s deeper tone overlaps Soonyoung’s high-pitched voice, but it’s too muffled for Junhui to make out specific words. The ruckus from the living room certainly doesn’t make it any easier to eavesdrop.

At the thought, Junhui stops walking toward his room. 

He shouldn’t be doing this. It’s wrong. Obviously the two of them wanted to keep this conversation private, and Junhui has no business interfering without their permission. He’s not Soonyoung’s keeper, and Wonwoo’s isn’t his boyfriend. He has no right or say when it comes to whatever the rapper does in private. An unpleasant sensation bubbles in his chest at the thought, but he shakes it out of his system. Taking in a deep breath, he tells himself that he’s satisfied with the knowledge that those two are okay and no fight has broken out in his apartment. There’s nothing else for Junhui to do but return to the living room. With a sinking heart, he turns on his heels.

“Do you really think Junnie’s going to judge you for that?”

Junhui stops at Soonyoung’s rising voice. He doesn’t dare turn around, awaiting the following statement.

“You were a kid. It wasn’t your fault that he—”

Wonwoo lets out a frustrated groan to interrupt him. “How many times do I have to repeat myself for you to understand? All I need you to do is keep your mouth shut.”

His stomach twists, and Junhui bites down on his lip, hands pulling on the sweater paws.

“And I _will_ ,” Soonyoung confirms. “But I’m trying to tell you that it’s not a big deal!” Wonwoo doesn’t respond, and the speaker goes on, voice lowering slightly, “Look, you guys have been hanging out and whatnot for over a month. If you’re actually serious about pursuing that further, you should really tell him. It’s obviously still eating at you, and people in relationships should definitely tell their partner when things go awry.”

“Things aren’t going awry,” Wonwoo growls out.

The musical theater major heaves a sigh. “Dude, you are still riddled with so much guilt, it’s ridiculous.”

After a long pause—in which Junhui almost flees for fear of getting caught—Wonwoo’s voice finally echoes in the dim space, “I don’t want his pity.”

“Shouldn’t you know him better by now? Junnie isn't that kind of guy. I _know_ you know.”

Wonwoo releases a breath, and Junhui can hear the weariness and feel the heft of it. What could be so significant that it would weigh him down this badly? What did Wonwoo do that would fill him with that much guilt for so many years?

 

_Do you have any siblings?_

_Yeah. A younger brother._

 

Could this be related? Well, whatever it is, Wonwoo’s still unwilling to let Junhui know about it.  

“Just… Don’t tell him anything.”

“Does that mean you will?” Soonyoung questions. “We may have known each other for longer, but Jun’s important to me. If things fall apart, I’m taking his side.”

A snort resounds, and Junhui can visualize Wonwoo roll his eyes. “Noted, O Great One,” he says sarcastically. Footsteps, then fingers grip the door to swing it open. 

Junhui lets out of a silent _Eeep!_ as he sprints for the bathroom to hide. He presses his ear against the door, hearing Soonyoung ask where Wonwoo is going.

“Back to the living room, where else? No offense, but I don’t plan on spending the evening hanging one-on-one with you.”

The other gasps, feigning hurt, crying theatrically, “Such caustic and cruel words! Oh, my poor heart! When will I ever be good enough to be chosen?” 

Hidden in the bathroom, Junhui waits a few beats after hearing their footsteps receding, before he cracks the door open and slips out. His heart still pounds from nearly getting caught, and he presses a hand over the hoodie to try to calm it down. The ruckus from the living room doesn’t sound like it has changed much, except that now Soonyoung’s shouts are added into the mix. Good, no one’s noticed anything out of the ordinary. Still, Junhui can’t go back yet. Not in this state. 

He walks into his room and throws himself on the bed, half-burrowing under the comforter and pillows. What are the chances that he can just go to sleep now without his friends demanding an explanation?

A couple minutes later, once his heart has slowed down to a normal pace, Junhui entangles his long limbs from the sheets and heads back to the join the rest of his friends. It’s not until he steps up to the doorway that he hears the booming sound effects interspersed with clipped dialogues. The lights are off, but Junhui manages to find his way thanks to the flashes of colors reflected on the walls. The movie—some action/thriller that came out a few weeks ago—capture the attention of all twelve boys lounging all over the floor with blankets and pillows surrounding them. 

Junhui approaches quietly, footsteps muffled by the soundtrack, and searches for a free space he can lean against. His eyes slowly adjust to the dim lightning. The armchair is free. However, before he can take a step, though, someone tugs on his jeans. He glances down to see Wonwoo curled up against the side of the couch, blanket pooling in his lap. 

The rapper stares up at him evenly, the light from the tv flickering and casting shadows over the facial planes. Without having to say anything, he gets Junhui to sit down next him. 

“Where did you disappear to, Pretty Boy?” he whispers against Junhui’s ear as he pulls him in by the waist to sit in between his legs. He adjusts the blanket to cover both of them, tucking the ends under Junhui’s thighs. 

The latter all but melts against his chest, heart quickening anew. “N-nowhere,” he stammers, breath hitching when his companion’s arms come to snake around his middle. “I was just lying down for a minute.”

“Mm.” Wonwoo breathes out, the warm air tickling the other’s skin. “Tired?” 

The pressure around Junhui’s waist disappears only to return to the small of his back. Wonwoo’s agile fingers knead small circles against the tense muscles there, gradually easing the fatigue he wasn’t even aware of being under. Junhui relaxes in no time at all, turning completely malleable and pliant. His body slumps over their legs, eyes fluttering close as Wonwoo continues to massage him through his clothes. Even as lost as he is, some logic still remains to remind him that they’re not alone, and that letting out any sort of satisfied sound would cost him an eternity of teasing from their collection of friends. And so as good as Wonwoo’s hands feel on him, he grits his teeth and keeps quiet. 

It goes on for a good ten minutes, based on the time ticking on the DVD player. Junhui’s muscles are so loose, he feels completely boneless. His current state must be a great source of amusement, because Wonwoo chuckles as he tucks him back against him, gently brushing the purple locks away from his eyes.

“Your hands are amazing,” Junhui babbles, absentmindedly seeking the other’s fingers with his own. 

A low chuckle by his ear causes a small shiver to rack his frame. “Do you even realize what you’re saying?” 

“Hm?” Lifting his head, he looks up at the boy behind him with wonderment in his eyes. “What do you mean?”

The gaze turns fond as Wonwoo shakes his head, somewhat exasperated, but no less amused. “Never mind, Pretty Boy.” He encircles his arms around Junhui’s middle and rests his chin on the fluffy purple hair. “Let’s not sully that pure mind of yours.”

Junhui scoffs and pokes his stomach, making both of them laugh quietly. 

They sit back to watch and catch up on the movie after that. 

Admittedly, he feels incredibly content just lounging around and cuddling with Wonwoo while enjoying a quiet evening with their friends. But he also can’t help thinking about what he overheard. Especially Soonyoung’s comment. At the thought, his eyes flicker to his roommate sitting a few feet away, tucked between Seokmin and Jihoon. 

What if the reason Wonwoo isn’t willing to tell him is because he sees no future for them, hence no need to reveal personal information? And that's why he’s forcing their mutual friend to stay quiet to ensure Junhui remains ignorant to keep matters uncomplicated. Making the breakup easier.

Junhui’s let the fantasy run a little too freely lately. How could he forget that there’s still a bet going on? He and Wonwoo aren’t dating, at least, not in the normal and good sense. Everything that’s been going on between them, Junhui should have remembered to operate under the assumption that it’s all part of the plan to make him fall. He doesn’t believe that Wonwoo’s been lying; however, it’s apparent that the rapper either doesn’t see a future for them, or he doesn’t trust Junhui enough to confide in him. And while Junhui understands, it doesn’t lessen the ache twisting in his chest.

“What’s wrong, kitten?” The deep voice settles over him like a thick blanket, stirring him out of the musing.

His voice can’t quite be relied on, though. He resorts to mumbles. “Hm?”

Wonwoo nuzzles into his neck, hand circling around to rub his back comfortingly once more. “You got all tense again.”

The action causes Junhui’s eyes to sting, and he feels grateful to whoever decided to turn the lights off. “No, um—” He clears his throat. “Just…” Wonwoo waits patiently for him to continue. Gripping the bony fingers entwined with his, he finds the courage to ask, voice tiny and unsure, “You were gone earlier, too. Where did you go?”

The rapper flinches. To mask it, he gathers Junhui closer to him. “Did you miss me that much, Pretty Boy?” he laughs. It sounds off.

And there it is again. The deflection.

Junhui screws his eyes shut, sucking a gulp of air past his teeth. “What if I said yes?”

A breathy chuckle leaves Wonwoo’s lips, and it sounds like relief, if Junhui had to label it. His arms tighten around the boy in his embrace, and he rocks them back and forth. “Then I’d tell you that I’m here now.” The brightness from the screen allows him to see Wonwoo peer down at him, wearing a gentle smile. “Isn’t that enough?” 

_No._

“Yeah.” He smiles at the light touch on his cheek. “Yeah, it’s fine.” 

 

___________________________

 

Monday afternoon, Junhui sits on the third floor of the library, biochem textbook spread in front of him, pencil tapping against the wooden surface. A familiar messenger bag lays sprawled on the table a few inches away, its content set out neatly in front of the empty chair. Junhui takes his eyes away from his homework to glance at the owner of the items, currently pacing up and down the aisle in search of the needed book. With Wonwoo’s attention otherwise occupied, he takes the opportunity to study the rapper’s phone.

There’s nothing particularly fancy about the case; Junhui’s seen it plenty of times before. It’s a simple black and matte design, meant for practicality rather than aesthetics. However, there is a new detail that wasn’t there before the weekend. Something that has pricked at Junhui’s curiosity and amusement the moment Wonwoo set it down on the table at the beginning of their study session. He had feigned disinterest, accepting the explanation with a simple nod, then turned his attention to his notebook. Now that he couldn’t be caught staring, though, he nudges the phone closer to him with the tip of his pencil in order to see it better.

The device lays on its face, exposing the smooth back surface. Aside from the small printed brand, a doodle now adorns it. Slowly, Junhui traces over the outline with the eraser tip of his pencil, the strokes meeting to create two cat silhouettes siting with their tails entwined. They were both drawn with silver Sharpie to offset the dark background, but one of them had been retraced with purple. A soft smile finds its way to Junhui’s lips.

“I don’t know how Mingyu got a hold of my phone,” Wonwoo had explained a few minutes ago, “But I guess it’s true what they say about love turning you blind.”

Junhui had blinked up at him in confusion.

“It was Minghao’s idea,” Wonwoo elaborates with en eye roll. “I’m glad he finally got his crush to talk to him, but I don’t think it’s fair that it was at the cost of my phone.”

The news of the couple getting along causes Junhui’s smile to brighten. “Well, I think it was for a good cause.” 

Wonwoo rolls his eyes again, but there’s no sign of true anger. “We’ll see what happens when they decide to deface your stuff, Pretty Boy.”

“You do know that Sharpie comes off with just some ethanol, right?” Junhui inquires, arching a brow. 

His companion had merely shrugged. “I’ll make Mingyu do it.”

The phone suddenly vibrates. Junhui jumps, barely managing to keep his surprised cry from reaching anyone’s ears. He darts his eyes around, heart rate slowly decreasing, to see that no one has noticed. Well, it’s also lucky that he and Wonwoo are basically the only ones occupying the floor besides the staff by the counter. 

“Is that my phone?” Wonwoo wants to know, head poking out from the aisle behind Junhui.

“Yeah.”

“Can you check who it’s from?”

Junhui blinks. “Are you sure?”

The rapper shrugs, smirk flashing. “I’m not hiding anything.”

Biting his lip, Junhui turns away before his facial expression could betray him. He turns the phone over and presses on the home button to see the texts displayed. 

 

**Walking_Accident:** we’re out of coffee

**Walking_Accident:** can you grab some before going home? thx

 

Junhui reads the messages out loud and watches Wonwoo shake his head. “I’ll reply later.” Then he disappears behind the shelves once more. 

Left alone again, he’s about to put the device away to resume working, but the wallpaper makes him pause and stare. It’s a watercolor painting of a flower field with a mountain range lining the background. The style is nothing quite like anything Junhui’s ever seen before. The strokes are soft, offering a captivating contrast between the sharps and the blurs, colors bleeding and blending into one another without becoming overwhelming or discordant. All in all, the painting is beautiful, and it leaves Junhui in awe.

So dazed, he doesn’t even realize Wonwoo’s returned until a slightly cool hand strokes the nape of his neck. “Kitten?”

He drops the phone on the table in his surprise. “I’m sorry!”

The fingers at his neck massage the muscles as Wonwoo’s brows crease in concern. “It’s fine. You were just zoning out a bit there.”

Heat rushes to his cheeks, both in embarrassment and from the touch at his nape. “Your wallpaper is nice,” he says lamely, pressing his hands over his face.

“Oh.”

There’s a pause, and Junhui braces himself. For what he’s not sure, but he chews on his lip nervously regardless. A heavy silence hangs between them. At last, Wonwoo’s fingers leave his neck to thread through his hair in languid strokes. His shoulders drop from their tensed posture immediately. Sheepishly, he glances up to meet the rapper’s gaze.

The latter stares intently back at him, and Junhui can see the gears spinning a mile a minute in Wonwoo’s head. He’s debating something. Whatever it is, he comes to a decision a few seconds later. His eyes flicker to the phone sitting on the textbook. 

“The artist has an exhibition in my hometown,” he states, speaking to the device.

Junhui’s eyes widen. “The artist is from your hometown? Do you know them?”

The other nods, but a complicated emotion crosses his face. “You could say that, Pretty Boy.”

“Wow!” There’s no denying the excitement in his voice. “That’s amazing!”

As if the genuine wonderment melts the ice, Wonwoo cracks a smile. “I could take you this weekend if you want.”

Doe eyes turn round. “Really?”

The smile on Wonwoo’s face becomes more fond and playful by the second. “Sure, Pretty Boy.” He strokes Junhui’s chin. “Since you seemed so enamored with it, you didn’t even hear me approach.”

Junhui pouts. “I wasn’t enamored. I’m just impressed.”

Chuckling, Wonwoo nods, but the twinkle of mischief remains in his eyes. “If you’re impressed from just a small picture, you’ll probably fall all over yourself at the real deal.”

“Then you better be there to catch me.” Realizing what he’s just said, Junhui flushes and clasps a hand over his mouth. He spins swiftly around to his notebook, hearing Wonwoo’s soft teasing chuckles behind him.

A poke to the cheek prompts him to look over, seeing Wonwoo leaning back against the side of the table. He crosses his arms, smirk apparent. “So does that mean you’ll come?”

Logic tells him to be careful. Reason warns him of the probable consequences.

But his heart is beating too fast and too loudly for him to hear anything. So he nods, grin blooming on his lips.

The sight prompts Wonwoo to reciprocate, gaze tender. “Alright, kitten. It’s a date, then.” He studies Junhui's pink cheeks with satisfaction.

As Wonwoo returns to his seat, and the both of them resume their work, Junhui’s mind refuses to stay on the pages of his textbook. It decides to wander.

Perhaps there is no future for them beyond this little game. Perhaps Junhui is setting himself to fall, fully aware that no one will be there to catch him at the bottom. Perhaps he really is just as foolish and naive as everyone says.

But when he catches Wonwoo’s eye, and the latter smiles at him so fondly, Junhui can’t fight the rising emotions from swallowing him whole. Even as his breath catches at the sensation of Wonwoo’s fingertips lightly drawing patterns on the inside of his wrist, a wave of bliss sweeps through his body, and quiet giggles tumble out of his lips.

Endeared by the sound, Wonwoo tugs his hand closer to him. Tan fingers curl around pale ones. The rapper grabs a Sharpie from his bag with his free hand and starts drawing on Junhui’s wrist. They huddle close, both watching the strokes taking shape to form a little creature with sharp ears and round glasses holding a book in his hand. Junhui remembers seeing the little fellow sitting on Wonwoo’s desk, and more giggles spill out.

Then it’s his turn as he gestures for the marker. In a matter of seconds, a smiling kitty stares up at them. Wonwoo smiles as he gazes at the doodle.

With their wrists lined up, Junhui snaps a picture. The ink may fade away, but the shot will remain. 

Wonwoo asks for a copy, and he sends it to him. 

“How long do you think this’ll last?” the rapper wonders, swinging their joined hands lightly, gaze still lingering over their matching set.

Shrugging, Junhui answers, “I’m not sure. I guess it depends on how intent you are at scrubbing it off.”

“Scrubbing it off?” Wonwoo repeats with an exaggerated gasp. He brings both of their hands to set over his heart. “You wound me, kitten. I thought I’d make a lasting impression on you.”

Junhui laughs softly at the statement, feeling warm. 

 

Maybe they couldn’t have forever. But maybe this could be enough. 

Temporary happiness has to be better than none at all, right?

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well... That turned out more bittersweet than i anticipated. Oops... But hey, WonHui date next week! Maybe Wonwoo will finally explain himself instead of being a paranoid doofus. ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯


	10. Art

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _In a roomful of art, I'd still stare at you_
> 
> WonHui go on a date. Secrets are revealed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I ask for your forgiveness by offering this 9K word chapter of WonHui on their date.
> 
> Warning: high amount of cheese and sap up ahead. Proceed with caution.

 

Ocean spray wafts in the air, carried by a gentle breeze to fan across Junhui's cheeks. Piercing through the hazy clouds of early morning, sunlight illuminates the minuscule particles, making them scintillate like glitter. He takes in a lungful, tasting the salty and crisp scent. Despite the gloomy weather, Junhui still smiles at the ocean, arms stretched over his head. The waves are calm today, rolling steadily to shore before crashing against the light gray sand. He stares at the frothy sea foam, so constant and yet fleeting with each push and pull of the water. A sudden urge to catch the suds wells up within him. 

Glancing sideways at his companion, he opens his mouth to suggest moving closer. However, the sight of Wonwoo staring out toward the horizon—the same exact view that Junhui’s been watching—makes him pause. The bubbles of excitement float away, and his grin dims. It’s incredible how an identical scene could elicit such contrasting emotions and reactions from the two of them. While Junhui has been filled with quiet admiration and thrill, Wonwoo projects a subdued vibe of forlornness and despondency. It’s not heart-wrenching, exactly, but quite rather lonely. 

At first sight, Wonwoo appears fine. His shoulders are relaxed, hands tucked casually inside the pockets of his jacket. There is no crease marring the space between his brows, just a neutral expression settling on his features. And yet… Something in his eyes as he gazes at the crashing waves tugs relentlessly at Junhui’s consciousness. He recalls that night a few weeks ago, when Wonwoo had taken him to the roof of the library. Wonwoo had been trying to stay away from something, or someone, seeking Junhui’s help to do so. They had eventually gone to the cliffs near the school, watching the ocean not very unlike this morning. Junhui hadn’t thought much about it back then, but now, he wonders if Wonwoo had sought out the sea because it connects him to home. Perhaps whatever had bothered him that night is also linked to his conversation with Soonyoung last week. The past that he doesn’t want Junhui to know.

Swallowing the lump in his throat, Junhui reaches for his phone. He’d made a decision; he’s going to do his best to keep at it. Just live in the moment, enjoy everything while you still can. Tapping the screen, Junhui pulls up the camera app.

Arguably, Wonwoo has always looked picturesque. But in this instant, he looks a little too much like stone. If it weren’t for the slight shift of his chest as he breathes in and out, the errant strands of hair fluttering in the breeze, and the occasional blinking, he would resemble a perfect statue set against a backdrop of gray clouds and bright streams of light. The view is too mesmerizing not to capture. 

Junhui snaps a shot. 

The faint shutter sound causes the photography subject to wake up from the daze. He blinks a couple times, glimpsing over toward the source. A brow quirks as his eyes dip to the object Junhui fiddles with. The latter bites his lip, stomach twisting in anticipation of some kind of adverse reaction. But a smirk quickly appears at the corner of Wonwoo’s mouth, easing Junhui’s worry.

“What is it with you and taking pictures of me when I’m not looking?”

A shrug, smile tentative. “I was just checking.”

“For?” Wonwoo prompts, swinging an arm around Junhui’s shoulder to tuck him to his side. 

Junhui leans some of his weight against his companion, responding, “That your soul didn’t get stolen by the sea nymphs.”

Wonwoo laughs, the sound light, his nose scrunching up in the adorable way that Junhui’s come to adore. The latter's smile widens a little more at the sight. Head bowed, Wonwoo lets their cheeks graze as he lowers his voice and states, “Don’t worry, Pretty Boy. Not even sea nymphs can hold a candle to you.”

When he inches away to meet Junhui’s gaze, his eyes are dancing with mirth and mischief, causing the target of his teasing to blush even more. He laughs, bumping their foreheads together.

Junhui lets out a scoff to preserve some believable shreds of dignity as he pretends to be engrossed in saving the picture. “Aren’t you just a smooth-talker, Jeon Wonwoo,” he mutters. “I hope you do remember that sea nymphs are beautiful _divine_ creatures.” 

“Oh, I do,” the other assures him, confident grin still in place. “I wrote a paper on them last year, too. So obviously, I’m an expert now.”

Rolling his eyes, Junhui laughs. “Obviously.”

The so-called expert on sea goddesses brings his hand up to poke Junhui’s cheek. “You might only be mortal, but you’re cuter, Pretty Boy.” 

Shifting so his face could be partly hidden from view, he burrows against Wonwoo’s shoulder. “That’s exactly the kind of blasphemous comment that got Psyche in trouble with Aphrodite.”

Wonwoo chuckles, breath blowing over the crown of Junhui’s hair. “Does that make me your Eros, then?”

Cheeks burning anew, Junhui refuses to show his face. He makes do with hitting Wonwoo’s chest instead. He couldn’t even find anything witty to retort with, only a sulking sound makes it out of his lips. Which just causes Wonwoo to laugh all the harder. 

“Alright, alright,” he relents, squeezing Junhui’s waist. But the latter doesn’t miss the amusement still lingering in his voice. “But I will say this,” Wonwoo adds, “You’re better than any sea nymph because you don’t smell like fish.”

Now it’s Junhui’s turn to burst into laughter, his carefree giggles carried by the sea breeze. Wonwoo smiles fondly. 

“I really don’t get how you could have grown up in a sea town and gone to a school on the coast, yet not like seafood,” Junhui comments once he manages to cool his cheeks.

His companion shrugs. “It’s the smell.”

Junhui looks at him with incredulously. “But you like the beach,” he notes. 

Wonwoo hums, inhaling deeply to prove his point. “It’s nice—the view, the sound, the feel. I just don’t want to taste it in my food, though. I mean, you know that earthy and mossy scent from the woods?” Junhui nods. “Well, as nice as it smells, you wouldn’t want to taste forest greens with your ramen, would you?”

Another peel of giggles tumble out of his lips, and Junhui pokes Wonwoo’s side. “You’re so silly.”

The latter grins in response. With a sigh, he states, “All this talk about food got me hungry,” he announces. “Breakfast?”

“Sure! Lead the way.”

With exaggerated manner, Wonwoo bends at the waist and bows with flourish. “As you wish, my prince.”

“Pfft,” Junhui laughs, both at the sight of the bad boy acting the role of royal servant, as well as at the nickname. He shoves him slightly, and Wonwoo stumbles on the sand, laughing.

“What? Is my acting that bad?”

Junhui shakes his head, still grinning. “I’m just used to hearing that from Soonyoung’s fan club.”

He expects some sort of negative reaction from Wonwoo at the mention of his roommate’s name, but his companion merely arches a brow, questioning, “Why would he have a fan club, named like that, no less?”

“Apparently it’s from one of the first shows he’s ever performed at Pledis,” Junhui explains. “And I guess it kind of stuck from then on.”

Wonwoo nods. “You’re part of his group this time, aren’t you?”

Grinning proudly, he nods. “Yup. With Minghao and Chan.” Then an idea occurs to him. “Do you think Mingyu would be free then? It’s in about two weeks.”

“Mingyu,” Wonwoo repeats, a sour expression crossing his face. “You want to invite him to your show?”

He blinks innocently, head tilted. “Yeah. I know Minghao will never go out of his way to do it, but I’m sure Mingyu would love to see him perform.”

The relief is instantaneous as a satisfied smile starts to stretch across Wonwoo’s face. “You’re trying to play matchmaker for those two?”

Again, Junhui nods. “Mhm! They’re cute.”

The other scoffs. “Mingyu isn’t cute. He’s a walking accident who still rouses the apartment at four in the morning to bake his damn cupcakes.”

Giggling, Junhui pokes both of Wonwoo’s cheeks. “Am I sensing hints of jealousy?”

Wonwoo opens his mouth to protest indignantly; however, his intent quickly changes as a different thought flitters by, lighting up his eyes. A sly smirk curves the corner of his mouth. He invades Junhui’s personal space, dark fringe brushing against purple strands. “What if I said yes?” he taunts, voice low and raspy enough to make a shiver run down Junhui’s spine. Eyes shining impishly, he reaches up to caress the warm cheek with the back of his fingers. “What will you do to set my mind at ease, kitten?”

Swallowing thickly, he attempts to breathe evenly and suppress the pounding of his heart. “I… Um… I’ll…”

Wonwoo continues to smirk, brow rising, waiting for the rest of Junhui’s answer. “Yes?”

“I’ll… I’ll treat you to breakfast!”

It’s uncertain whether Wonwoo laughs because of the flustered state Junhui is in, or at the enthusiasm of his statement, but he pats the blushing boy’s side and remarks, “Like I said, Pretty Boy—” another pat— “much cuter than any sea nymph.” 

Junhui rolls his eyes and swats at him, managing to calm his heartbeat enough to keep the heat off of his cheeks. “Don’t blame me if one of them surfaces and snatches you away for your apparent impertinence.”

“Well, for the sake of the truth,” Wonwoo replies, “It’s a risk I’m willing to take.”

Laughing, they kick off the sand and put their shoes back on their feet. Then Wonwoo takes Junhui’s hand in his, leading them down the small and still mostly deserted streets. Which makes sense considering what time it is. Most people are still asleep on a Saturday at seven in the morning.

When the two of them had planned the trip, Wonwoo had proposed to head out early to avoid the morning traffic. Easy enough. Junhui isn’t a morning person for nothing. Although admittedly, even he had trouble waking up two hours earlier than normal, which may or may not have something to do with the fact that he barely got any sleep the night before. He’d spent more time tossing and turning in bed, with the butterflies swirling in his belly at the anticipated date, than actually sleeping. It took Soonyoung throwing a pillow at him to force him to lay still.

The result was a more or less groggy Junhui shuffling through the apartment getting ready. The coffee helped a little; however, nothing could have shocked him awake more effectively than seeing Wonwoo at his doorstep at exactly 5:30am on the dot, alert and ready. He even offered a small bouquet of yellow and purple mums and bouvardia.

“I promised you flowers, didn’t I?” he asks upon seeing the shock and delight reflected in Junhui’s eyes and shy smile.

Hiding behind the fragrant and colorful bunch, Junhui murmurs his thanks. “They’re beautiful.” Tiptoeing around the kitchen for a vase, he fills it up with water and gently deposits the gift, rearranging the branches here and there. 

Whatever response Wonwoo is about to give gets interrupted by the sound of a door opening. Junhui turns over his shoulder to see a barefoot Jihoon ambling out, blond hair sticking up in every which direction, oversized shirt wrinkled and basketball shorts swishing along with his steps. He has one hand covering his face as a yawn overtakes him. For a second, they all freeze. Jihoon assesses him, blinking slowly, then moves his focus to the bad boy leaning back against their counter. They nod at each other curtly.

“Jihoonie,” Junhui ventures as he approaches his wobbly flatmate. “Why are you up so early?”

A groan slips out before Jihoon grabs his favorite mug. “Didn’t sleep.” He pours the coffee with one hand, the other rubbing at his eyes. “The project is kicking my ass.”

Junhui frowns. “It’s not due until finals week.” He hands him a muffin, brushing the hair out of the overworked musician’s face. “You need to rest, Jihoonie.”

His comment is ignored as the boy sips on the bitter drink and turns to assess Junhui and Wonwoo. “You going out?”

“Yeah,” Junhui affirms with a nod.

Jihoon hums, eyes fixed on Wonwoo with an expression that’s usually reserved for Soonyoung when the latter tries to disturb the musician. Keeping his stern expression on the rapper, Jihoon addresses his friend. “Will you be back tonight?”

“Of course!” Junhui answers right away. “We’re just going to an art exhibit in Wonwoo’s hometown.”

“Mm. Alright.” Jihoon pushes himself off of the counter. He throws another look toward the rapper. “Make sure he doesn’t run off.”

While Wonwoo cracks a smile and nods, Junhui protests, “Hey! I’m not a child.”

The retort earns twin snorts from the other boys, and Junhui pouts. 

“Call if you’re going to be late,” Jihoon orders as he retreats back to his room, munching on the top of the pastry. 

Once the door clicks, an arm comes to rest on Junhui’s shoulder. “Who would have pegged Lee Jihoon as the protective type?” Wonwoo muses.

“He’s just worried,” Junhui replies. “Since I kind of ran off with Hansol that night after you called.”

Wonwoo arches a brow questioningly. “You didn’t tell your friends where you were?”

“I did, eventually. But they sort of went into a panic-frenzy since neither Hansol nor I picked up.”

Wonwoo nods in understanding. But then his eyes turn playful as he comments, “So I’m going to go on a limb here and say that I got the approval from your friends.”

A little surprised, Junhui glances over his shoulder. “What?”

“That dinner last week. That’s what it was, wasn’t it?”

Feeling his cheeks starting to warm up, the apartment tenant busies himself with stuffing his backpack with snacks. “They’re my friends. Not my guardians,” he mumbles out, barely audible over the rustling of the plastic.

Wonwoo chuckles, giving him a hand. “I don’t think they got the memo.”

“Hm!” Junhui puffs out his cheeks, pouting cutely.

They got on the road after that. It was the longest Junhui had ever ridden on a motorcycle. An exhilarating experience that made him giddy by the time they arrived. Because they’d managed to beat the weekend rush hour, they were pretty much the only souls walking around the streets. Most shops wouldn’t be open for another hour or so, and that’s how they ended up walking on the beach and soaking in the maritime air.

Now, Junhui lets his eyes roam the quaint and quiet neighborhood, snapping pictures here and there, all the while talking to Wonwoo about this and that. Somehow, the subject returns to the showcase.

“So you never answered me earlier. Do you know if Mingyu will be free on the day of?”

Wonwoo shrugs, taking a right. “Probably. Even if he does have something else planned, he’ll most likely try to reschedule. The kid wears his heart on his sleeve, it’s actually a little worrisome.”

“Aww,” Junhui coos. “You _do_ care!”

The other rolls his eyes. “I’m just trying to avoid a scene of him sobbing from heartbreak.”

Junhui considers it for a bit. “Well, for what it’s worth, Hao isn’t the kind of person to lead anyone on. If he truly doesn’t like Mingyu romantically, he’ll make himself clear. To be honest, I just hope they can friends at the least.” He plays with the long sleeves of the hoodie, flapping them around. “After I saw Mingyu’s lovestruck expression, I couldn’t stop thinking about it.”

“Hey.” A nudge. Junhui glances up. Wonwoo’s frowning slightly, although it looks more petulant than angry. “You better be careful, kitten. Keep going, and I'll actually start collecting.”

Cheekily, Junhui grins at him. “By doing what, exactly? Ordering the most expensive dish on the menu?”

The giggles stop abruptly when Wonwoo releases his hand to throw an arm around his neck, pulling Junhui to him. His lips brush against the shell of Junhui’s ear, voice dipped low, verging on a growl. “Don’t tempt me, Junnie, or I’ll show you exactly how easy it is to fill your every thought with nothing but me and my name.”

A shudder wracks through Junhui’s body, and he screws his eyes shut, gripping onto the front of Wonwoo’s shirt. Inexperienced he may be, but it doesn’t take a lot of imagination to understand what Wonwoo’s referring to. And the worst part is knowing how willing he’d be to see Wonwoo keep his promise. _Scary_.

Finding his way out of the fantasy-induced daze, Junhui nods, “Okay.” Sheepish, he ventures to look up from beneath his lashes.

Wonwoo groans and runs the tip of his nose along sharp jaw, muttering, “Let’s hurry and find a bistro, before we end up eating something else other than waffles and pancakes for breakfast.”

A brand new wave of flutters surges within Junhui, making his skin tingle and his mouth run dry. His face is burning at the implication, and he tightens his hold on Wonwoo’s shirt, needing something to anchor him to reality. With his brain turning into the same consistency as sea foam, he lets Wonwoo take his hand again and guide them along more narrow streets. Not until a while later—once the refreshing breeze blows through his hair and cools his cheeks—that he finally gets his bearings on the situation. He’s gotten so comfortable around Wonwoo, he’s almost forgotten how dangerously tempting it was to be with the bad boy. The latter made it all too easy to lose control. 

He gets pulled out of the musings when they make a turn and come upon a fish market. Wonwoo’s pace noticeably slows, and Junhui glances over to see him wrinkle his nose and eye the offending kiosks with contempt. The sight, quite endearing and so contrasting to the usual tough outer image, prompts Junhui to giggle and swing their arms to get the other’s attention.

“Is there a detour we can make?” he suggests. “Or another place we could go to eat?”

Wonwoo still scowls at the scene, but he trudges forward. “No, it’s fine. This way is the fastest. Besides,” he takes his eyes away from the crowds to meet Junhui’s, “I have you.”

Confusion knots his brows together for a second, until Wonwoo pulls him closer and buries his nose into the silky purple strands, breathing deeply. Junhui laughs some more, placing his arm around Wonwoo’s back as they navigate through the shoppers. They avoid elbows and bags, watching their feet. The process would go a lot faster and smoother if they weren’t glued at the hip, but the arm around Junhui is unrelenting. And truth be told, Junhui doesn’t really mind, either. Not that the bad boy will hear that confession anytime soon.

Once they make it out of the crowd, Wonwoo lets out a sigh, mumbling, “So much better than a sea nymph.”

Junhui laughs, patting the other’s waist where his hand rests. “That was probably their punishment, you know.”

Now that he’s away from the offending seafood, the confidence returns. A roguish grin greets Junhui when he looks over. “Are you sure? Felt more like a reward to me, kitten.” And to emphasize his point, he tugs Junhui a little closer to his side.

The Golden Boy shakes his head and narrows his eyes, but he’s grinning back. 

Inside the bistro, the buttery lightness of freshly baked pastries mingles with that of the fragrant roasted beans, creating a divine aroma that Junhui takes a lungful of. The boys are guided to a table by the window, and a server comes to take their orders shortly after. While they wait, Wonwoo asks about Junhui’s showcase performance, which eventually leads to the performers themselves.

“Isn’t Chan a little young?” Wonwoo questions, cutting into his stack of pancakes. “I thought he went to the Academy a few blocks from campus.”

His companion nods, swallowing the bite of his waffles. “He takes a couple courses at Pledis, so technically, he’s enrolled there and is allowed to join. He’s an amazing dancer,” Junhui praises. “And his voice is really powerful. Even Jihoon was impressed.”

Wonwoo nods, humming. “Will all four of you sing?” 

A spark lights up the dark gaze as he watches Junhui, and the latter recalls how the rapper had requested him to sing that night. A soft blush threatens to spread across his cheeks, and he distracts himself by stuffing his face full of strawberries. He offers only a quick nod to the question.

Chuckling lightly, Wonwoo seems greatly amused by his response. “Well, now I have no choice but to come and watch.”

Junhui nearly chokes. “You want to come?”

A dark brow arches as the rapper stares evenly at him. “Unless only Mingyu is permitted?”

“No! I mean…” Taking a sigh, Junhui chews on his lip. “Of course you’re welcome to come, I just didn’t think you’d want to.” He admits the last part in a minuscule voice, which is almost swallowed up by the chatter around them.

Slightly cool fingers grip his on top of the table, prompting him to look up at a warm smile and playful eyes. His stomach fills with butterflies. “And miss seeing you perform?” He smirks. “I don’t think so, Pretty Boy.”

A laugh bubbles out of him despite the nerves, and the sound widens Wonwoo’s smile into a full grin. 

Their waiter comes around to refill their coffee, and once he leaves, Junhui turns the questions to Wonwoo about his band’s upcoming show.

“Coups is actually thinking about recruiting another member,” he reveals, sipping on the dark liquid. “Something about needing new creativity.”

Junhui furrows his brows. “Isn’t your showcase coming up _very_ soon?”

“The new recruit won’t participate in the showcase,” he explains. “But if we do find someone, they’ll most likely perform with us at our regular shows.”

Nodding thoughtfully, Junhui comments, “What are the requirements?”

The other laughs softly, teasing, “What, does the Golden Boy want to join?”

He receives a flat look. “No, but I know someone who would be ecstatic for the chance!”

“Who?”

“Hansol! He idolizes you guys, in case you haven’t noticed.”

At that, Wonwoo laughs. “Oh, I have. But he’ll still need to prove his skills. Just because he’s friends with Mingyu and Coups doesn’t automatically give him brownie points.”

“I know that,” Junhui says indignantly. “And he’ll blow you out of the water. Just you wait, mister.”

Instead of feeling threatened, Wonwoo laughs again as Junhui pulls out his phone to text Hansol about readying his best lyrics. 

By the time they finish eating and head out, the sun has risen enough to thaw the layer of chill in the air. Junhui smiles up at the warmth gracing his skin, following Wonwoo’s lead with a light spring in his steps. He doesn’t miss the soft chuckles Wonwoo throws his way as the latter tightens his fingers around his. Along with the temperature, the population scattered through the streets has also increased, bringing life to the previously rather lonely town. Junhui takes it all in, the difference a few hours could do. He finds it fascinating. 

It’s because he’s so distracted that he’s taken by complete surprise when Wonwoo suddenly jerks him toward the opposite direction. His body would have landed ungraciously on the hard concrete if it weren’t for Wonwoo’s continuous unrelenting tug on his arm. The momentum propels him forward, even as his feet attempt to catch up to the rapper's pace.

“What happened?” he wonders, glancing over to the latter’s face. Only to balk when he sees a deep crease between his brows, his mouth forming a thin line. “Wonwoo?” the boy ventures shyly.

“Nothing,” comes the curt answer. “I just saw some people I’d rather not deal with.”

Glimpsing over his shoulder, Junhui scans the area they had just been headed for to see a group of people around their age on the corner of the street, in front of a convenience store. None of them seem to be paying their surrounding any attention. Their loud voices and guffaws ringing through the corner and earning disapproving looks from the pedestrians. Aside from their rude attitude, Junhui can’t exactly see why Wonwoo would react so strongly toward them. 

Just as Wonwoo takes him across the street to be even farther away, the guy with short copper-colored hair glances up. The nanosecond of eye contact is nowhere near enough for Junhui to make anything out. 

He remains quiet as they take a different route to the museum, unsure when the time would be right to ask for moe questions. If such a time even existed. Through their connected hands, he feel the slight tremors coming from Wonwoo, and he’s left wondering if it’s from fright or anger. He’s unsure which is the better alternative.

Wonwoo doesn’t offer an explanation until they’re standing in line to the ticket window.

“A few of those guys showed up to the bar,” he says. “The ones who picked a fight with Mingyu and Coups.”

Nodding, Junhui rubs his thumb gently over the back of Wonwoo’s hand. “The acquaintances you were talking about,” he muses softly, and the other nods.

“Yeah.” He lets out a breath, seemingly gathering his composure before looking over at Junhui. There’s a small, tentative smile hanging on the corner of his mouth. “I’m sorry, kitten,” he whispers, stroking Junhui’s cheek. “I should have been more careful.”

The responding smile is brighter, as if it would help lift the dark mood from the other’s expression. “I’m okay. You don’t have to apologize. Besides, it’s not like you could have predicted where they hang out,” he chuckles.

But Wonwoo’s eyes don’t light up. “I should have, though. This is their home turf.”

“Hm?”

“They’re from here,” he says with a long suffering sigh. “The town’s troublemakers.”

Junhui doesn’t have time to process the information and relate it to how Wonwoo would be familiar with them, because the lady behind the glass calls them up for their turn. Wonwoo insists on buying their tickets since Junhui’s already paid for breakfast. The latter reacts too slowly, unable to hand his card over before Wonwoo slides it toward the lady, who chuckles softly as she rings them up.

“The least you could have done is let me pay for my own ticket,” Junhui says as he takes the stub from Wonwoo, while they walk through the doors into the lobby.

“I can’t do that when I’m the one who invited you to see the painting you were so enamored with,” he teases with a nudge.

An eye roll. “I wasn’t enamored. I was impressed.”

Wonwoo smirks. “If that’s how you gaze at something you’re merely impressed with, I can hardly imagine what you’d look like staring at something you love.”

His treacherous mind conjures up memories of him and Wonwoo just lazing around, doing homework or laughing at random things. His heart rate picks up as a result, and he turns his head to the side, shaking it to clear the implication. He reaches for a witty response.

“Remind me to send you a selfie the next time I buy jelly snacks,” he retorts, prompting Wonwoo to laugh freely, nose scrunching up in that adorable way of his. Junhui sighs, but he can’t help smiling. 

Since, according to the map, the exhibit for the artist that 'stole Junhui’s heart’, as Wonwoo continues to tease, is in the back, the pair decide to walk through the main museum floor first, and slowly make their way to the exhibition. 

They begin with the historical wing, reading and listening to the various narrations dispersed around. They take their time soaking in the information, trading opinions on the different historical figures they come upon, and what they would do if placed in similar situations. The flow of conversation seem to go on forever, the supply of topics apparently endless.

Until they enter the art displays. The mood around them shifts to that of quietude, and they simmer down to whispers and muffled laughter when a particular hideous tableau or sculpture comes into view. At one particular eyesore, Wonwoo’s hushed jokes delivered right next to his ear cause Junhui to catch the giggles. He’s laughing so much, one of the artists sitting around to sketch looks up and clears his throat pointedly. 

“I apologize,” Wonwoo offers quickly, politely. Although his expression looks too self-satisfied to look apologetic. 

That makes Junhui laugh even harder, leading Wonwoo press him against his chest to let the older laugh against the crook of his neck in hopes that it’ll be enough to muffle the sound.

“What kind of goodie-two-shoes gets in trouble at a museum?” Wonwoo asks a minute later, after guiding him out of the immediate reach of the glare, arm resting comfortingly around his waist.

“That was your fault,” Junhui whines, poking his chest. “You shouldn’t be making fun of people’s art. That painting probably costs more than both of our lives combined.”

But Wonwoo merely shrugs. “Everyone’s entitled to their opinion. And we both agree it looks awful.”

“Maybe,” Junhui allows. “But you’re supposed to observe and pay attention to the art itself. Try to understand what it’s trying to tell you.”

With another unimpressed look, Wonwoo shakes his head. “I’m not getting anything other than the distinct feeling that the artist needed glasses.”

Junhui presses a hand over his mouth to keep the giggles from slipping out, all the while trying to give his companion a sever look. It doesn’t work very well, and Wonwoo smirks.

“Come on, Pretty Boy.” He tightens his hold on Junhui’s side to guide him down the hall. “There’s plenty more to see.”

Fortunately, none of the rest of the sculptures and paintings prompt more bad jokes and fits of giggles, so the pair make it through without earning any more glowers or side eyes. They stop at the common area between the first part of the museum and the entry into the exhibition. A large panel is erected in plain view of the public to inform them of the background of the artist. Or in this case, artists. 

The panel shows a group picture with about twenty or so young adults. Some have paint splatters, others show hands covered in wet plaster. They’re students, Junhui realizes as he reads through the text, from the art school not very far from here. For about three months, their projects will be displayed in the museum for all to see and enjoy. A sense of both respect and admiration washes through Junhui upon realizing that someone so young could have created a piece that resonated so well with him. He can hardly wait to see more from them, as well as their peers. 

Junhui floats through the halls on a cloud, large eyes gazing up at the displayed pieces with wonder. While the techniques are generally the same, the execution sets each artist apart. He supposes it is a lot like music. A song is nothing but words and notes on a piece of paper; it’s the singer who has the power to transform it into their own, showing the audience their heart and soul. Painting and sculptures aren’t very different from that. And so he takes special care to read the little descriptions under each to learn about the intent of the artist. Of course, there are a few paintings that leave him quite baffled. He’s never been very good with interpreting abstract forms and shapes. He’s glad to note, though, that so far, nothing has been grotesque.

Stopping at a peculiarly strange painting comprised of only strokes of paint in seemingly haphazard directions, Junhui turns to ask what Wonwoo thinks about it. Only to find the rapper staring intently at him.

Junhui blinks. “What?” he asks quietly, mindful not to be scolded again.

The other shakes his head, but his gaze remains, and a small smile appears on the corner of his lips. “Nothing, kitten. You just seem to be enjoying yourself is all. It’s adorable.”

The comment turns Junhui’s insides to mush, and a blush quickly blooms on his cheeks. He bites his lip, dipping his gaze downward. “What were you doing staring at me? You should be looking at the beautiful art around us.”

Cool fingers gaze along the warm skin, and a soft chuckle sends pleasant shivers down his spine. “But I was, Junnie,” Wonwoo insists, voice deep and right by his red ear.

A whine escapes his lip, and he uses his free hand to press against his face. “You’re so cheesy!”

Unheeded, Wonwoo laughs a little louder, and Junhui’s glad his face is hidden, because he’s smiling behind the sweater paw. “No, I’m honest.”

A gentle tug is all it takes for Junhui to bury his embarrassment against Wonwoo’s shoulder, receiving light strokes through the hair at the back of his head. 

They stay in the same position for a few more seconds, until Junhui can gather himself and move on to the next painting, hyperaware of the heated gaze lingering over his features as he does so. He should probably let go of Wonwoo’s hand to help with the heat, but for some reason, feeling the bony and cool fingers sliding in between his give him reassurance and comfort. A strange notion when their owner is the one responsible for Junhui’s accelerated heart rate and belly full of butterflies. He decides not to think too much on the matter.

Eventually, they arrive at a watercolor tableau, and Junhui recognizes the strokes to belong to the unknown artist. This one is of clearing in the woods. Just like the one on Wonwoo’s wallpaper, the colors used aren’t the traditional ones. Instead of greens and browns, it’s a combination of pinks and purples, with blue strokes interspersed. It’s truly mesmerizing, especially to see it with his own eyes. Wonwoo had been right. Junhui is left in complete awe. So dazzled, it takes him several minutes before he can tear his eyes away long enough to read the little paragraph beneath the frame.

He stops abruptly at the name.

Raising his eyes back to Wonwoo’s, he reads it out loud, “Jeon Bohyuk.” 

Wonwoo is still smiling softly, but a coldness has settled into his gaze. He nods, eyes flickering to the frame. “He’s my brother.”

 

Accepting the paper cup, Junhui cradles it between his hands, allowing the heat to seep through the sleeves and into his skin. The comforting scent of chocolate drifts in the air, and he slowly brings the cup to his lips to sip at the hot and rich liquid. From the corner of his eye, he sees Wonwoo holding a similar cup, only it’s black coffee rather than hot chocolate. Wonwoo takes a seat next to him, their thighs separated by a couple inches of space. Junhui tells himself not to close the gap. Not yet anyway. There’s a reason Wonwoo’s brought him out here—a stone bench across the street from the gates of a middle school—and Junhui knows it has everything to do with his brother and whatever secret he’s made Soonyoung swear not to tell. 

And so Junhui waits, tasting the chocolate to ease the frayed nerves.

After a few sips of his own drink, Wonwoo clears his throat and starts to talk. “Bohyuk used to hate arts and crafts when he was young.” Voice tight, even that small sentence seems to have caused him great pain, as if each syllable had bit and scratched at his throat and lips as the sounds formed. His shoulders are tense, muscles locked. 

The sight jabs against Junhui’s stomach, and he finds himself scrambling to find a way to diffuse the tension. “That seems a little hard to believe,” he muses softly, watching for the other’s expression.

His little joke manages to succeed. A puff of air is expelled from Wonwoo’s lungs, bringing with it a laugh, albeit small and hesitant. His shoulders sag under the jacket, and Junhui can almost hear the discs in his spine click as his posture relaxes.”Yeah,” he sighs. Glimpsing up from the coffee cup, his eyes survey the empty school yard, racking over the tall building. “Needless to say, he got better over time.” He clears his throat, hand moving to rub at his neck. 

Junhui’s never seen him fidget so much before. Obviously, what he’s about to tell him is highly uncomfortable. Junhui bites his lip, thinking it over. As much as he wants to know more about Wonwoo’s past, he’s not so heartless to put the man through this much distress just to satisfy his curiosity. Over the two months they’ve been together, Wonwoo’s never failed to reassure and put him at ease whenever he so much as squirms. He’s patient, kind, and considerate. He doesn’t deserve to put himself through this. It had stung when the possibility arose that Wonwoo didn't want to tell Junhui about his past because he didn't think they'd have a future. But just knowing that he's changed his mind is enough for Junhui. He doesn't need to know the details if they're going to hurt Wonwoo so much.

Without hesitation, Junhui replicates what Wonwoo’s always done to calm him down. He reaches over the small gap and slides his palm under Wonwoo’s, squeezing gently. The rapper snaps his attention away from the school, to drop to their joined hands, then immediately focuses on Junhui’s slightly pink cheeks. His gaze is questioning, and Junhui offers a smile.

“It’s okay,” he says. “You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to. I understand.”

But the rapper is shaking his head before Junhui even finishes his sentence. The cool fingers interlock with his, pressing their palms tightly together. “I do want to tell you,” he confirms. “It’s just… I’m not really sure how.” 

Junhui smiles gently, thumb caressing the back of Wonwoo’s hand. “It’s all right. Just take your time. I’m not going anywhere.”

That gets Wonwoo to laugh. It’s short and a little breathy, but a laugh, nevertheless. He studies the school again, jutting his chin toward it. “I was in seventh grade when things started to go off the rail, and Soonyoung was there to see it happen. Prior to that, he and I had this underlying rivalry going on between us. We competed in a lot of activities: grades, games, presentations, talent shows… We were kids, and the adults saw it as a healthy way to motivate us to do our best. And it was, for the most part. Especially since I won most of the time.” He flashes Junhui a confident smirk, and the latter can’t help laughing quietly at the sight, easing the nerves gnawing at his insides.

“Soonyoung did mention that you were extremely smart,” he says, recalling the praise hidden under the snarky comments.

A little incredulous, Wonwoo quirks a brow. “He actually told you that?”

“Yeah,” Junhui nods. “And also that it was a shame, because you’re an ass with an attitude problem.”

Wonwoo laughs heartily at that, nose scrunching up. Junhui’s smile turns more genuine at the sight.

“That sounds more like him,” the rapper comments with a small shake of the head. As he takes in a breath to continue his story, his expression sobers up, and Junhui braces himself. “A lot of people shared the same viewpoint back then, and I can’t really blame them. But one particular group thought I needed to be put in my place, so one day, they jumped me on my way home. Since I had to pick up Bohyuk, I didn’t take the normal route that the other students did. Which gave the bastards the opportunity they needed. They dragged me to the alley behind the school, close enough to the fields so no one could distinguish the screams of the sport team from my pathetic cries and begging.”

Junhui’s heart clenches at the mere thought of the young boy being beaten by a group of cowards. More than that, he can hear the self-loathing in the words that Wonwoo spits out. He squeezes the hand in his, but whether the action is supposed to sooth himself or Wonwoo, he’s not sure. 

The latter goes on, eyes distant as he reaches far back into his hateful and traumatic memories. “It was so noisy—the kicks, the laughter, the shouting and jibes. My own voice. And then in the midst of all of that chaos, someone shouted. The hits stopped coming. The group scattered. And then someone was crouched in front of me, calling my name. Soonyoung looked terrified, all the blood drained from his face as he asked me what happened. I have no idea what I told him, but he helped me up and took me to the nurse’s office. Considering the relatively minimum damage—a lot of bruises, bloody nose, scrapes—I assumed that the beating didn’t last very long until Soonyoung found me.

“The nurse wanted to call my parents, but I told her I’ll do it myself. With the delay, I was already late, and Bohyuk was still waiting for me. So I ran. It took me a block to realize Soonyoung was following me. I couldn’t even yell at him to go home, because by the time we got to the elementary school, Bohyuk was trying to grab his backpack from the hands of one of the bastards who jumped me. The guy was sneering at him, shoving his face away every time he got close enough to touch the straps. I tried to put an end to it, but I was still terrified from the beating. I hesitated, and he knocked me on my ass. I barely registered the facts until I heard Bohyuk scream and looked over to see the bastard holding him up by the shirt, his feet dangling in the air.

“I should have stopped him from hurting Bohyuk. But I couldn’t move. I just sat there and watched as he shook my brother, winching when the boy started to cry for help. It took Soonyoung kicking the bastard’s knees in to get everything to stop. But by then, Bohyuk had landed on his arm and fractured it. Seeing the damage, the guy ran away. Again, I couldn’t do anything. I was useless. Soonyoung’s the one who grabbed my phone and called my parents, all the while trying to calm Bohyuk down.”

Wonwoo takes in a shaky breath and releases it, screwing his eyes shut. He lets his head drop as he leans over his knees, the empty cup in his hand falling to the ground in a crumbled mess. Junhui doesn’t know what to say. The weight of the guilt makes it hard for Wonwoo to even breathe properly. Carefully, Junhui slips his hand out of Wonwoo’s hold, replacing it with his right in order to scoot closer and rub large strokes against the tense shoulders and back muscles. He can only hope it’ll be enough to show comfort, while his words fail him.

After a minute of silence, Wonwoo speaks up again, “I did a lot of thinking during the few weeks that those bastards were suspended. I couldn’t sit by; that’s what got Bohyuk hurt in the first place: my inaction. So I bid my time. And I got them back, one by one. Soonyoung tried to stop me when he caught me beating the crap out of the guy who broke Bohyuk’s arm. But I made him swear to keep quiet, and surprisingly, he did.” With a tired sigh, Wonwoo sits up and leans against the back of the bench for a second, before returning his elbows to his thighs. 

“Eventually, though, the school found out, and I almost got expelled if it weren’t for my parents vouching for me. Not that it did anything to discourage me from continuing. I’d already seen the advantages and benefits of using my fists to resolve my problems. On the third offense, though, my parents decided to move in the hopes that a new school and environment would help.” A bitter laugh escapes, and he shakes his head. “I’m sure you know how well that plan turned out, Pretty Boy.”

Junhui bites his lip, his hand continuing to rub the knotted muscles, wishing he could smooth out the harbored self-loathing as easily as he erases the wrinkles on the jacket.

“The new school did Bohyuk good, though, I suppose,” Wonwoo whispers. “Because of the fracture, he couldn’t really go for sports without worrying that it’ll cause further damage. Not to mention the aches. So he abandoned his dreams of going into professional sports, and turned to painting.”

And then everything clicks into place. Junhui's hand stills and he peers down at the other. He speaks quietly, afraid of spooking Wonwoo. “Is this why you asked me to stay with you that night on the roof?”

Wonwoo takes a moment before he nods. “It was the first day of the exhibit. My parents planned a celebratory dinner for Bohyuk, and I knew that if I were left alone, I might have taken the chance and gone to see his art. But the risks of running into him and my parents were too great, so I used you.” He looks up at Junhui, dark eyes dimmed by remorse. “I’m sorry, kitten.” 

Junhui stares evenly at the bad boy, currently seeming so vulnerable under his gaze. He’s expecting anger, but Junhui can’t find it anywhere. He had known, even back then, that Wonwoo was running from something. And he hadn’t questioned the motives, or blamed him for using him to stay away. Especially when Wonwoo had made it clear that he’d take Junhui home the moment he asked. But the fact that Wonwoo’s so worried about his reaction touches him. 

So he sets his hand over the one that Wonwoo’s already holding, gripping it tighter in hopes of sharing his warmth. “It’s okay,” he says. “I don’t mind if you did.”

A breathy and disbelieving laugh tumbles out of Wonwoo’s mouth, and his eyes soften considerably. “Kitten, do you even hear what you’re saying?”

Junhui nods. “I agreed to it, remember? Besides, it’s not like I didn’t have fun,” he mutters under his breath, glimpsing away when he feels the curls of warmth caressing his cheeks.

Chuckling fills his ears, more amused and lighter this time. Wonwoo lifts his hand from between Junhui’s and wraps his arm around the latter, pulling him against his side. Junhui leans his head on the rapper’s shoulder. “So now you know, Pretty Boy,” he whispers against the purple strands.

Choosing his words carefully, he turns and twists his tongues a few times before speaking. “How is Bohyuk nowadays?”

“Fine.” A shrug. “You read the information at the entrance about his school.”

The other nods, continuing to his next question with the same wariness. “Does he…” 

“What? Blame me?” When the purple hair tickles his chin in the affirmative, he sighs. “Of course not.”

That’s all Junhui needs to raise his head to look straight at Wonwoo. “Then why do you blame yourself?” The dark eyes harden, then glance away. “He’s happy with his choice, Wonwoo. I know you know. His art reflects it so clearly.”

The younger’s jaw clenches. When he turns back to Junhui, the distraught and helplessness have returned. “He didn’t make a choice. He was forced into it. Because of me. _My_ arrogance, _my_ lack of courage, _my_ inaction, _my_ problems. I took away his athletic chances, and shoved him into a corner where he had no other alternative. He managed to do the best that he could in those circumstances, and I applaud him for that. But I can’t fully support his art. Not when I know the reason behind it.” 

Junhui lets out a sigh, trying again. “Do you really think that blaming yourself and staying away from him will make him happier?” The soft remark results in a small flinch. “You need to forgive yourself, Wonwoo.”

The latter breathes deeply, but offers no response.

He scoots a little closer and peers at him, hand moving to the nape of his neck to massage the muscles the same way Wonwoo’s done to him before. His voice is barely above a whisper, “Please? Will you try?”

It must be the genuine concern in his voice that causes Wonwoo to look at him. They hold eye contact for a long moment before he finally speaks, “Does it really matter to you that much?”

“Of course it does,” Junhui replies right away, head tilted to the side. “I care about you. We’re… ” He swallows, cheeks flushed. “We’re friends.”

Something flickers across the dark gaze. Sitting up, Wonwoo leans forward until their foreheads almost come into contact. A hand comes to cradle the side of Junhui’s face, and a cool but soft touch sweeps across his cheekbone. Heart pounding, he parts his lips in an attempt to suck in more oxygen; however, only short and shaky breaths make it past. The action draws Wonwoo’s attention, and his gaze dips to the plump and pink lips. 

“Just friends?” he questions, eyes snapping back to Junhui’s. Wonwoo's voice is low, a lot huskier than Junhui’s used to hearing. 

“I…” He can’t think properly. Too distracted by the boy sitting in front of him, mind focused on the sensation of a thumb stroking over his bottom lip, too mesmerized by the piercing gaze pinning him place. 

He’s so lost, it takes him a few extra seconds to realize that Wonwoo’s talking to him.

“Should I try to convince you to change your mind, Junnie?” The inquiry is uttered lightly, almost teasingly. But while Junhui’s mind still swims through the blissful haze, he’s conscious enough to pick up the double meaning, the caution underneath the playfulness. Wonwoo’s asking permission. Jeon Wonwoo, the scary bad boy on campus is asking shy and nervous Golden Boy Wen Junhui if it’s okay. 

He nods, tiny smile tugging the corner of his mouth.

A similar view catches his attention from Wonwoo, before he closes his eyes at the feeling of soft lips pressed against his. The kiss is gentle, with Wonwoo letting Junhui set the pace, all the while holding on to his waist and cradling his jaw. Junhui clutches at the open ends of Wonwoo’s jacket to anchor himself, fearing that the fluttering of his heart might cause him to float away the more he lingers. He tastes the bitterness of the coffee on Wonwoo’s tongue, which is quickly chased away by the sweetness of the sugar on his own lips. 

A moment, and they slowly part. 

Junhui blinks away the euphoric mist to see Wonwoo grinning at him, dark eyes fond and tender as he strokes the warm cheek with the back of his fingers. Junhui leans into the cool touch, prompting the other to chuckle lightly. 

Very quickly, though, the affection morphs into mischief as he asks, “So tell me, kitten. Was that enough to convince you, or should I try again?”

A pout forms on the slightly swollen lips, and Wonwoo chuckles again. “That question is unfair,” Junhui complains, feeling the blood rush to the surface again.

“How is it unfair?” Wonwoo feigns ignorance, although his smirk says anything but.

A whine. “You know the answer already.”

Amusement dances in his eyes as he laughs. “I may be a lot of things, but I assure you that I’m not psychic.”

Unable to vocalize the embarrassing request, Junhui resorts to burrow against Wonwoo’s shoulder to avoid making eye contact. “It wasn’t enough,” he says, feeling his face flame up.

A soft chuckle sounds right by his ear, and he shudders at the pleasant sound. “No?”

He shakes his head, burrowing deeper to hide.

Gently, a kiss is pressed to his temple. “You’re so cute, kitten.” Before he can find the words to reply, Wonwoo tips his chin up and delivers his request. 

Junhui melts, leaning completely all of his weight against Wonwoo’s chest. The latter’s arm comes around his waist to settle on the small of his back, as he deepens the kiss enough to make Junhui dizzy. Whether from the lack of oxygen or just the taste of Wonwoo himself, he’s not sure, and he can’t quite find himself caring at the moment. 

Once they settle back, foreheads resting against each other’s, both breathing slightly more raggedly, Wonwoo smiles at him, and he smiles back, heart alight. Wonwoo lifts a hand to caress his cheek.

“I can’t promise it’ll happen overnight,” he starts to say, “But I’ll try. I’ll… talk to Bohyuk.”

The smile that blooms on Junhui’s lips reflects the joy and relief he feels washing through his body. “Really?”

Wonwoo nods, smile a little subdued now that he’s thinking about what he’ll have to do, but it remains happy, nevertheless. He hums, reverting to playfulness, “Mm. Were you not the one who told me to pay attention and listen to what the art has to say?”

A squeak escapes Junhui in response to the cheesy compliment. He presses on sleeve-covered hand to his face to mask the grin. “You’re so lame, Jeon Wonwoo.”

When Wonwoo laughs, though, Junhui joins him. “At least I’m good-looking.”

That causes Junhui to laugh even more as he swats at the other’s shoulder halfheartedly, sweater paws flapping. Wonwoo catches his hands easily and tugs him against his chest. 

“So, Pretty Boy, did you have fun today?” the rapper asks a few minutes later, once their laughter and heart rate have subsided.   

Junhui looks askance at him. “Why must you ask questions you already know the answers to?”

The other grins, arms tightening around his torso. “Because I like hearing you say them out loud.”

“Hmph!” An eye roll. “In that case.” He turns halfway in Wonwoo’s embrace and pecks his cheek. “There.”

It takes a second for Wonwoo to snap out of the stunned state, enough time for Junhui’s face to burn up again. 

He expects retaliation. 

What he doesn’t expect is that it comes in form of tickles.

And so the sound of high giggles mixed with deep chuckles fill the quiet streets, drawing amused looks and soft laughter from passerby.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See? The secret wasn't so bad, was it?
> 
> The question is... Does Wonwoo have MORE secrets??? dun dun dun...
> 
> How long are WonHui going to stay on Cloud 9 before it starts to rain??? 
> 
> \----  
> Again, thank you so much for continuing to support this fic and put up with my tardiness and procrastination LOL. I love you!!!


	11. Bitter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Even on Cloud 9, it has to rain eventually...
> 
> Special Guest appearance of Bitterwoo

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> His♕Majesty_Coups: Seungcheol  
> Sleeping(︶｡︶✽)Angel: Jeonghan  
> GentleMANly: Jisoo  
> ☾Junnie (^._.^)ﾉ: Junhui  
> Young_Hurricane: Soonyoung  
> TheWonWOOingU: Wonwoo  
> ♫(･◡･๑)WOOZI: Jihoon  
> Foolish_Sunfl❀wer: Seokmin  
> Puppy_Lov’in.Gyu: Mingyu  
> Snaky∞Kermit: Minghao  
> BooTeaful&Sassy: Seungkwan  
> Rocket。．:*･°Power: Hansol  
> Dancing_King(〜^∇^)〜: Chan

 

There comes a certain time at Pledis U that breathes fear down nearly every student's neck. It transforms even the most enthusiastic and energetic social butterfly into a high-strung and solemn hermit. Coffee houses and restaurants turn into pitstops, meant to refuel and maintain regular caffeine levels rather than locations to laugh and relax. That concept ceases to even have meaning over the next few days. The libraries extend their working hours to accommodate the influx of students coming to seek refuge from potential distractions, and the sound of laughter and excited conversations all but disappear all around campus. 

_ Exam season. _

As studious as Junhui is and can be, he’s not exactly looking forward to the long hours of nonstop studying. Mostly because he gets too restless, the pressure of the impending tests weighing down on his shoulders, yet the nerves shooting through his limbs have him fidgeting at his desk, hands continuously clicking pens and pulling on his sleeves. And Soonyoung isn’t even on the room to throw balled up paper at him to force him to stop. The musical theater major, knowing his own nature, had gone with a few of their friends to set up camp on the fourth floor of the main library. Apparently, with everyone else around working, the peer pressure will drive them to concentrate and work better. Jihoon, like Junhui, had chosen to stay home. Unlike Junhui, though, Jihoon never had any difficulty sitting still for hours on end. It’s practically what he does every single day. 

And so, Junhui is left to his own devices, resorting to pacing the room in order to get rid of the excess energy and induce proper blood circulation, all the while holding his notes to his nose and memorizing formulas and mechanisms. The only reprieves, if he can call them that, are the actual lectures and lab sessions. They give him a break and allow him some human interactions aside from knocking on Jihoon’s door and making the musician eat with him. Their meals lately have consisted of the boys sitting at the kitchen table, shoving food into their mouths, while their eyes bore holes into notebooks, hands scribbling out annotations. _Fun_.

Truth be told, though, things could be a lot worse. He could be majoring in Human Biology like Jeonghan, and have to study for three midterms and prepare two lab experiments (plus reports) all due within five days. Therefore, he counts his lucky stars at the amount of exams on his plate. Essays were manageable; as long as he can find appropriate passages and present them in such a way to support his thesis, he’ll be fine. Besides, it’s generally more enjoyable reading about tales and legends than memorizing glycogenesis pathways.

When he heads to class on Thursday and enters the lecture hall, he’s reminded of a perk arising from the near isolation he’s been forced to face. Coffee mug in hand, he finds himself smiling at the sight of the familiar brown locks in the midst of the empty room. People say distance makes the heart grow fonder, and Junhui can attest to that statement quite well as a surge of affection wells up in his chest, dispelling the chill from the autumn air from his core. The sensation only grows stronger with every step he gets closer to the other boy. His… boyfriend. Just the thought alone makes his cheeks burn, and he’s glad no one is around to see him. He bites his bottom lip in an attempt to stop the silly grin from spreading too wide. It does nothing to appease the butterflies in his tummy, though. 

Wonwoo’s upper body lays sprawled on top of the desk, head cushioned over his arm. His eyes are closed, but Junhui doubts he’s actually asleep, what with the notes spread out across the surface of the table and the pen in his grasp. Still, Junhui plays along. Quietly, he lowers his backpack from his shoulders and takes his usual seat next to the dozing boy, focus strained on the very slight twitch of the brows, betraying Wonwoo’s charade. Junhui stifles the giggles, unzipping his bag for the needed materials. Even once he’s done and taken a sip of the coffee, Wonwoo still refuses to give up the ruse. 

He bites back the laugh and leans over to poke at the exposed cheek. “Time to wake up, sunshine,” he sing-songs, giggling freely when Wonwoo crunches up his nose and cracks an eye open. 

Soft, half-hearted mutterings spill from Wonwoo’s lips, but a small smile tugs the corner of his mouth. He repositions his head, folding his arm under his head to see Junhui better. His voice is lazy (and much too clear to have come from a sleeping man) as he states, “That’s not how you’re supposed to wake Sleeping Beauty.”

Junhui arches a brow. “I thought we’ve already established that I’m the pretty one out of the two of us.”

A smirk appears in response, and Junhui’s stomach flips even before Wonwoo utters the words, “So you’re saying you want me to kiss you good morning?”

“No!” Cheeks aflame, he turns his head swiftly just as Wonwoo laughs. The blushing boy presses his sleeved hands over his face to hide the color and to mask the small involuntary smile resulting from hearing Wonwoo’s unrestrained laughter. But he’s not ready to let the other win. He grabs the mug he’s set at the corner of Wonwoo’s desk. “Since you’re awake enough to crack jokes, I’m keeping the coffee to myself today.”

“Aw, come on, kitten, don’t pout.” The amusement is clearly heard in his tone, and so Junhui refuses to turn back. He hears Wonwoo sit up, the desk creaking slightly when his weight is removed. He barely has time to register the sudden warmth pressed along his side, before Wonwoo’s deep and sultry voice caresses the sensitive skin of his neck. “Please, Junnie, won’t you share?”

A gentle hand cupping his nape accompanies the request, and a small shiver runs down Junhui’s spine. Although whether it’s from Wonwoo’s touch or his words is debatable. He turns over his shoulder to see the mirth dancing in the rapper’s dark eyes, and he squints his in response. “I’m glad to see that the stress hasn’t gotten you down the least bit,” he mutters, but offers the mug toward the grinning musician.

The latter laughs, taking the offered container with glee. He takes a sip, smacking his lips appreciatively, then samples a few more. His brows furrow, and a perplexed expression crosses his features as he glimpses at the coffee.

“What?”

Wonwoo takes another sample. “It tastes different today,” he says. “Did you change something?”

That confuses—worries—Junhui greatly. He hadn’t tasted anything odd, but what if, in his stressed-induced state he’s added something weird to it and didn’t even notice? “Let me see.” 

He reaches for the mug, but instead of handing it over, Wonwoo moves it away. In the same instant, he cups Junhui’s jaw and presses their lips together. The former emits a surprised squeak, but the softness of Wonwoo’s lips numbs his senses soon enough, and he melts into the kiss. Eyes fluttering close, he clutches at the hand around his face, fingers gripping onto the other’s wrist. Junhui opens willingly when prompted, letting a soft sigh slip out when Wonwoo licks at the inside of his mouth, sucking at his bottom lip. He can taste the bitterness of the coffee and sweet undertone of the sugar; seemingly far away, his thought prompts him to recall that Wonwoo commented on the beverage’s change. But the sensation of the rapper’s lips on his, his thumb caressing at Junhui’s cheek, the way his heart hammers against his ribcage and his stomach doing flips, chase away all coherent thoughts from his mind. 

Naive he may be, but he doesn’t think anything could feel as right and perfect as this feeling—being held and touched like he’s something cherished, filled with warmth and fuzziness from the affection he has for the other boy. 

They gradually pull away, and Junhui dazedly leans his forehead against Wonwoo’s, knowing his cheeks are most likely flushed, and that there’s a soft smile on his lips, but he just wants to revel in the moment for a few more seconds. 

“Well?” Wonwoo prompts lightly.

“Hm?” Junhui does his best to scramble his brains back.

The responding chuckle somewhat snaps him out of the daze. Wonwoo strokes his boyfriend's bottom lip with his thumb, smile playful. “The coffee tastes sweeter this morning,” he says, then a smirk appears at the corner of his mouth. “Or maybe it was just you, Pretty Boy.”

Junhui flushes, leading to more chuckles from the rapper. And the action is almost worth getting embarrassed. _Almost_. Thus the small whine and pout.

Grin turning fond, Wonwoo pecks his nose. “’Morning, Junnie.”

Junhui responds in kind, smile stretching across his lips. “Good morning, Wonwon.” 

They settle more fully into their seats after that, and Junhui could pretend to forget about the impending doom of exams for a few minutes. Fingers gravitate toward each other's to tangle together, sharing warmth and gentle squeezes. Wonwoo takes their joined hands and rests them over his thigh. Junhui takes the opportunity to peek around the large room, sighing in relief when he notices that they’re still the only ones here. 

Normally, they keep the PDA pretty low, never overt enough to make people around uncomfortable. Mainly because neither one is thrilled by having an audience gawk at them, but Junhui is grateful nonetheless, because while he has no problem being touchy and clingy with his friends, when it comes to non-platonic skinship, he gets too embarrassed and self-conscious. 

Body relaxing, he scoots closer to Wonwoo’s side and leans his head on the other’s shoulder. He feels the latter press a kiss to the crown of his hair before resting his cheek on top. They sit there quietly, enjoying the short reprieve and rare moment of closeness. Due to the rather poor timing in relation to the school calendar, they’d hardly had any time to themselves, resorting to texts and chats in between class meetings. 

“This is nice,” he muses, voice barely above a whisper, but Wonwoo hears him and smiles against his hair.

“Yeah, it is, kitten.”

Junhui shifts until his lips are pressed to the curve of Wonwoo’s shoulder, feeling the warm skin through the fabric of his shirt. The latter’s calming scent surrounds him as he watches Wonwoo drawing invisible patterns on the back of his hand. It reminds him of the night after their first kiss, when he had walked Junhui back to his apartment. Giddiness had mixed with nervousness, and Wonwoo had done the same to his hand, the gesture reassuring. They had talked a bit at the door, neither willing to part ways despite having spent the entire day together. 

Leaning back against the door of his apartment, Junhui thinks back to that night seemingly so long ago, after their first date at the Italian restaurant. Back then, he’d been filled with so much uncertainty and worry, most of them concerning Wonwoo and his own budding feelings for the apparent bad boy. Not to say that Junhui still doesn’t harbor reservations, especially considering how they came to be. However, after today, after Wonwoo let Junhui into his past, the smaller glimmer of hope that this— _them_ —could work, had burned a little brighter, and allowed for him to consider a future where they could be both happy. 

“Thanks for walking back,” Junhui says with a soft smile.

“Of course,” his date replies, smirk evident even as he leans forward to nuzzle against Junhui’s temple, bringing forth a flock of butterflies to swirl in the latter’s tummy. Wonwoo’s voice is low and teasing as he murmurs, “What kind of gentleman would I be, otherwise?”

The answering laughter is natural. Junhui finds himself teasing in return. “A gentleman? Is that what you are?” 

“Ouch,” Wonwoo laughs, contorting his face into an exaggerated grimace. “You wound me, Junnie.”

Giggling, he squeezes around the cool fingers enveloping his. “Really? I’d thought you’d be made from stronger stuff, Mr. Troublemaker.”

Wonwoo chuckles, the sound magically tugging the corners of his date’s mouth upward.

Despite the labels and jokes, it’s more than obvious that Wonwoo is much more than the bad boy reputation he’s built up for himself. Now that Junhui knows the truth, he understands why the rapper clings to that image. In a way, it’s become part of him, too. And Junhui doesn’t mind. Truth be told, it’s that confident, dark and alluring aura that first drew him to the rapper. Finding out gradually that Jeon Wonwoo is also a dork with lame puns and a kind heart was just icing on the cake. 

A slightly cold touch on his heated cheek prompts him to look up into gentle eyes. They stare at each other with stupidly dopey smiles, neither certain of what to say to prolong the moment. Unfortunately, the bubble is burst by a door opening down the hall. Various voices bounces off of the walls, and the boys shuffle away slightly.

“I should head to bed,” Junhui says with a sheepish grin. “Thank you for today.” He holds Wonwoo’s gaze, hoping to convey how much it had meant to him, that the  appreciation goes beyond the fun and the laughter.

Wonwoo strokes his hand again, eyes softening as he nods. His free hand lifts to cradle Junhui’s face, placing a chaste kiss on his lips. “Goodnight, Junnie.”

Running the tip of his tongue over his bottom lip, he bites down on it, wanting to keep the sensation of those soft lips on his. “Goodnight, Wonwoo.”

The apartment door clicks shut behind him, and Junhui rests his head back against the wood, finally allowing the full grin to overtake his expression. The giddiness bubbles out of him, and he giggles in the dim hallway. It takes him a few seconds to calm down enough to toe off his shoes and walk fully into the silent apartment. Soonyoung and Jihoon must either be out or already asleep considering the lack of noise. He keeps his steps light in case it’s the latter. 

When he reaches the living room, his hand flips on the switch. Only to let out an embarrassing squeak in shock upon seeing his flatmates sitting on the couch, staring at him with two very contrasting expressions. Jihoon squints at him, while Soonyoung practically radiates anticipation. Junhui blinks, staring back at them in confusion.

“Uh… Hi, guys,” he greets uncertainty. “Why were you sitting alone in the dark?” Then a thought occurs to him, and he gasps. “Oh my gosh! Did I interrupt something? I am so sorry! I’ll just—” 

“What!” they both exclaim at the same time. 

“No!” Jihoon groans. “We just finished a movie and got too lazy to move.”

Now Junhui notices the laptop on the coffee table, which Soonyoung reaches with his sock-clad foot to shut. “So…” he extends the sound, grin turning mischievous and eyes narrowing. He claps his hands once, then rubs them together in glee.

_Uh-oh_.

“How was your date with Wonwoo?”

Desperate for help, he looks over to Jihoon, but the blond remains impassive. Clearly, the musician isn’t interested in getting Junhui out of Soonyoung’s interrogation. 

“Uh… It was good,” he answers, slowly inching toward his room.

“What did you do? Did you have fun? Any pictures?” With each following question, Soonyoung edges closer to Junhui, practically vibrating with energy. “Where did he take you? Did he confess his underlying love for—Oof!” Soonyoung struggles against the pillow that Jihoon has smacked against his face. “What was that for?!”

Jihoon hits him once more. “Chill out! This is why you shouldn’t be allowed sugar intake after ten,” he mutters. 

Chuckling at Soonyoung’s indignation, Junhui shakes his head and figures he might as well sit down. He settles on the floor, leaning his elbow on the coffee table and gives them a short summary of the trip, complete with pictures. He notices Soonyoung’s surprise when he mentions Bohyuk’s art, but a smile quickly overtakes the shock. Even without being told explicitly, his roommate understands that Wonwoo finally told Junhui about his brother and the guilt. Jihoon listens, and while he seems curious about Soonyoung’s reaction, he doesn’t pry. 

Much to Junhui’s amazement, the curiosity dwindles, and he finds himself leaving to get ready for bed without further probing. _A true miracle_. At least, that’s what he thinks until he returns from the shower and plugs his phone to charge it. His screen is filled with notifications of a group chat he has no memory of participating in the past. Soonyoung is still in the living room, talking with Jihoon about some plot in the movie. So with a shrug, Junhui unlocks the screen and reads through the messages. Only to blanche once he scrolls to the top.

 

 **Young_Hurricane:** junnie’s home  from his DATE

 

**BooTeaful &Sassy:** date? what date?

 

**Foolish_Sunfl** ❀ **wer:** oooh! did you have fun, jun?

 

**Sleeping** (︶｡︶✽) **Angel:** what is this date? why have i not heard about it?

 

**BooTeaful &Sassy: **my question exactly

 

**Young_Hurricane:** chill. i got all the deets

 

**Sleeping** (︶｡︶✽) **Angel:** spill

 

**GentleMANly:** does jun know you’re about to talk about him and his date?

 

**Young_Hurricane:**  he’s part of the chat

**Young_Hurricane:** besides its not like theres secrets btwn us

 

**GentleMANly:**  good point

 

**Sleeping** (︶｡︶✽) **Angel:** hurry up and tell us!!!

 

**Rocket。．:*･°Power:** nice!

**Rocket。．:*･°Power:** did jun bring back any souvenirs?

 

**♫(･◡･๑)WOOZI:** he went on a date, not a honeymoon trip

 

**Puppy_Lov’in.Gyu:** so THATS why wonu came home smiling like a lunatic

 

**Foolish_Sunfl** ❀ **wer:**  aww! how sweet!

 

**Puppy_Lov’in.Gyu:** it was actually kinda creepy

 

**Rocket。．:*･°Power:**  LMAO

 

**Dancing_King(〜^∇^)〜:** LOL

 

**His** ♕ **Majesty_Coups:** oh come on. don’t tease him

**His** ♕ **Majesty_Coups:** we should be happy for them

 

**BooTeaful &Sassy:** look out Jeonghan

**BooTeaful &Sassy: **someone’s out to steal your reign as the group’s parent

 

**Snaky** **∞** **Kermit:** except he’d be way nicer

 

**His♕Majesty_Coups:** thanks hao!

 

**Snaky∞Kermit:** no prob

 

**Sleeping** (︶｡︶✽) **Angel:**  excuse you! what happened to respecting ur elders?

**Sleeping** (︶｡︶✽) **Angel:** i raised you better than this

 

**His♕Majesty_Coups:** hey, lets not fight. i’m not looking to steal anything

 

**Puppy_Lov’in.Gyu:**  you already steal our clothes and undies

**Puppy_Lov’in.Gyu:** and the cap of my lotion

**Puppy_Lov’in.Gyu:** and wonu’s charger

 

**His♕Majesty_Coups:** HEY!

 

**BooTeaful &Sassy:** LOL

 

**Rocket。．:*･°Power:**  LMAO. EXPOSED

 

**Dancing_King(〜^∇^)〜:** savage

 

**BooTeaful &Sassy:** so much tea spilling

 

**Sleeping** (︶｡︶✽) **Angel:**  i knew it was idea to adopt MG

**Sleeping** (︶｡︶✽) **Angel:** *a good

 

**His♕Majesty_Coups:** -_____-

**His♕Majesty_Coups:** i do not steal. i BORROW

 

**Young_Hurricane:**  as hilarious as this is

**Young_Hurricane:** DOES NO ONE WANT TO HEAR ABOUT JUNNIE’S DATE?

 

**Sleeping** (︶｡︶✽) **Angel:**  I DO! I have been asking for details for ages!!!

 

**BooTeaful &Sassy:** ME TOO

**BooTeaful &Sassy: **where did they go? what'd they do???

 

**Young_Hurricane:**  the location doesn’t matter

**Young_Hurricane:** what matters is that JWW is a huge SOFTIE

**Young_Hurricane:** WZ says he showed up at the crack of dawn to pick up Junnie

**Young_Hurricane:** and even brought FLOWERS

_ (Young_Hurricane sent a picture) _

 

**Puppy_Lov’in.Gyu:** WOW!

 

**GentleMANly:**  how sweet!

 

**Foolish_Sunfl** ❀ **wer:**  they’re beautiful!

 

**Dancing_King(〜^∇^)〜:** awww wooooow!!! 

 

**Rocket。．:*･°Power:**  damn. that looks expensive

**Rocket。．:*･°Power:** bet jun was all flustered lol

 

**His♕Majesty_Coups:** i’m surprised he even managed to get out of bed

 

**Sleeping** (︶｡︶✽) **Angel:**  flowers is the very least he could do

**Sleeping** (︶｡︶✽) **Angel:** i approve

 

**Dancing_King(〜^∇^)〜:** wow. ww got JH to approve of him

**Dancing_King(〜^∇^)〜:** he's good

 

**BooTeaful &Sassy:** hate to admit it, but i’m impressed

 

**Young_Hurricane:**  i know right?

**Young_Hurricane:** who knew mr. grumpy ass was a romantic? LOLOLOL 

**Young_Hurricane:** ヽ(ヅ)ノ

 

**GentleMANly:**  it’s such a nice and sweet gesture

**GentleMANly:** romance and chivalry isn’t dead!

 

**BooTeaful &Sassy:** its a little surreal that it took the campus bad boy to convince

**BooTeaful &Sassy: **you of that fact

**BooTeaful &Sassy: **but anyway

**BooTeaful &Sassy: **how did jun react???

 

**Young_Hurricane:**  idk, i was still asleep

 

**Sleeping** (︶｡︶✽) **Angel:**  you are a horrible gossip teller

 

**Young_Hurricane:**  hey! if it weren’t for me, you guys wouldn’t even know! (︺︹︺)

 

**♫(･◡･๑)WOOZI:**  he was grinning like a fool

**♫(･◡･๑)WOOZI:** cheeks as red as tomatoes 

**♫(･◡･๑)WOOZI:** it was pretty cute

 

 **BooTeaful &Sassy: **awwww jun is so cuuuuuute

 

 **Puppy_Lov’in.Gyu:**  i always knew jun was soft

 

 **Snaky∞Kermit:**  that's like stating the obvs

 

 **Rocket。．:*･°Power:** LOL. knew it. d'aw

 

**Sleeping** (︶｡︶✽) **Angel:**  my baby, well one of them, is in love <3

**Sleeping** (︶｡︶✽) **Angel:** *sniff sniff* i’m so proud and happy

 

**Snaky∞Kermit** : isn’t kinda early to declare it as love?

 

**Puppy_Lov’in.Gyu:** i believe its love!

**Puppy_Lov’in.Gyu:** especially from wonu’s side

 

 **Sleeping** (︶｡︶✽) **Angel:** oh?

 

**Puppy_Lov’in.Gyu:** yeah

**Puppy_Lov’in.Gyu:** you should see his notebook lol

 

**Snaky∞Kermit:** don’t tell me he actually has his name and jun’s written with an arrow heart and FOREVER

 

**Young_Hurricane:**  HAHAHAHAHAH

**Young_Hurricane:** oh man, i would LOVE to see that

 

**BooTeaful &Sassy:** no way

**BooTeaful &Sassy: **are you serious?!

**BooTeaful &Sassy: **what happened to the scary, tatted, violent, angry BAD BOY?!

 

**Rocket。．:*･°Power:**  mingyu, take pictures! i wanna seeeee!!!

 

**Foolish_Sunfl** ❀ **wer:**  awww

**Foolish_Sunfl** ❀ **wer:** wonu turned into a softie for jun

**Foolish_Sunfl** ❀ **wer:** this is following the scrip exactly!

 

**Puppy_Lov’in.Gyu:** what script?

 

**Snaky∞Kermit:** nvm him

**Snaky∞Kermit:** DK is still under the illusion that this is life imitating art

 

**His♕Majesty_Coups:** guys, we really shouldn’t be teasing them

 

**Puppy_Lov’in.Gyu:** you’re the one who showed me his notebook

 

**Sleeping** (︶｡︶✽) **Angel:**  HAHAHHAHHA

 

**BooTeaful &Sassy: **RIP

 

**Snaky∞Kermit:** wow

 

**His♕Majesty_Coups:** not the point

**His♕Majesty_Coups:** ur misleading them

**His♕Majesty_Coups:** there’s no heart or wjh+jww forever doodle

 

**BooTeaful &Sassy:** really? ●︿●

 

**Sleeping** (︶｡︶✽) **Angel:**  what a letdown!

**Sleeping** (︶｡︶✽) **Angel:** MG! i’m taking back ur golden star

 

**Puppy_Lov’in.Gyu:** whaaaaaa (T⌓T)

 

**Rocket。．:*･°Power:**  so then what’s in the notebook?

 

**Dancing_King(〜^∇^)〜:** pls don’t tell me its smth creepy

 

**Rocket。．:*･°Power:**  like what?

 

**Dancing_King(〜^∇^)〜:** idk. stalker-ish pics of jun?

 

**Rocket。．:*･°Power:**  why would he stalk his own bf?

 

**BooTeaful &Sassy:** creepy

**BooTeaful &Sassy: **but i agree with VN

**BooTeaful &Sassy: **considering it’s JUN we’re talking about. ww probably gets selfies everyday

 

**Young_Hurricane:**  wait!

**Young_Hurricane:** i thought i was the only one who gets jun’s selfies!!!

**Young_Hurricane:** I AM BEING REPLACED

**Young_Hurricane:** BY JEON WONWOO

**Young_Hurricane:** JUNNIE! HOW COULD YOU?! ╥﹏╥

 

**Sleeping** (︶｡︶✽) **Angel:**  ok, who let him have sweets after 10?

 

**GentleMANly:**  isn’t jihoon supposed to supervise since jun was out?

 

**♫(･◡･๑)WOOZI:**  i can only do so much against hurricane hoshi

 

**TheWonWOOingU:** what

**TheWonWOOingU:** the

**TheWonWOOingU:** fuck

**TheWonWOOingU:** is

**TheWonWOOingU:** this

 

**Dancing_King(〜^∇^)〜:** welp

 

**Rocket。．:*･°Power:**  yikes

 

**Puppy_Lov’in.Gyu:** ヽ(ﾟДﾟ)ﾉ

 

**His♕Majesty_Coups:** oh great

**His♕Majesty_Coups:** i’m gonna go find some earplugs

 

**Puppy_Lov’in.Gyu:** Hao, i’m coming over

 

**Snaky∞Kermit:** what?

 

**Puppy_Lov’in.Gyu:** i’ll make you breakfast!

 

**Snaky∞Kermit:** … fine

 

**Foolish_Sunfl❀wer:** see you soon mingyu!

 

**Young_Hurricane:**  wait! don’t you want to hear how their date went?

 

**TheWonWOOingU:** KSY, i am going to fucking throttle you

 

**Young_Hurricane:**  WHY ONLY ME?!

**Young_Hurricane:** i didn’t do anything!

**Young_Hurricane:** i didn’t even tell them what you guys did on the date yet!!!

 

**Sleeping** (︶｡︶✽) **Angel:**  !!!! 

 

**BooTeaful &Sassy:** !!!!

 

**TheWonWOOingU:** don’t make me go over there and kick your ass

 

**Young_Hurricane:**  you sure that’s what you really wanna do?

**Young_Hurricane:** junnie’s still awake  (¬‿¬)

 

**TheWonWOOingU:** fuck you

 

**Young_Hurricane:**  no thanks

**Young_Hurricane:** pretty sure you’d rather do it with junnie anyway

 

**BooTeaful &Sassy:** ur a dead man, KSY

 

**Sleeping** (︶｡︶✽) **Angel:**  how do you want ur funeral to look?

 

**♫(･◡･๑)WOOZI:**  im taking ur laptop and speakers

 

**Young_Hurricane:**  i’m not scared of you, jww!!!

**Young_Hurricane:** i’m junnie’s BFF, which means i am UNTOUCHABLE

 

**Rocket。．:*･°Power:**  excuse you!

 

As the waves of embarrassment and mortification ebb away to leave behind exasperation, Junhui pinches the bridge of his nose to breathe out a few calming breaths. All he really wants to do is crawl under the covers and pretend the entire chat never happened. But he can’t, because as much of a nuisance as Chocolate Buzzed-Soonyoung is, Junhui is still very fond of his roommate and close friend. Time to do some damage control.

  

**☾Junnie (^._.^)ﾉ:**  um. guys?

 

**Young_Hurricane:** he’s here!!!

**Young_Hurricane:** JUNNIE!

**Young_Hurricane:** SAVE ME! ヽ(ﾟДﾟ)ﾉ

 

**☾Junnie (^._.^)ﾉ:** i think its time you go to sleep soonyoung

**☾Junnie (^._.^)ﾉ:** and wonwoo, i’m really sorry about this

**☾Junnie (^._.^)ﾉ:** he tends to get carried away. pls don’t be angry

 

 

**TheWonWOOingU:** i’m not angry, junnie

 

**Young_Hurricane:** so you just threatened me for fun?

 

**TheWonWOOingU:** shut the fuck up KSY

 

**Young_Hurricane: (ノ﹏ヽ)**

 

**☾Junnie (^._.^)ﾉ:** are you sure? 

 

 

**TheWonWOOingU:** jun, i’m fine, dw

**TheWonWOOingU:** but it’s pretty late. don’t you have early practice in the morning?

**TheWonWOOingU:** go to sleep. we can talk more tomorrow

 

 

**☾Junnie (^._.^)ﾉ:** ok (◠‿◠✿)

**☾Junnie (^._.^)ﾉ:** i had a really nice time today ٩(｡^‿^｡)۶

**☾Junnie (^._.^)ﾉ:** thank you

 

**TheWonWOOingU:** haha

**TheWonWOOingU:** i’m glad. i did too :)

**TheWonWOOingU:** now go to sleep, junnie. wouldn’t want you to pass out during practice

 

**☾Junnie (^._.^)ﾉ:** pfff as if!

**☾Junnie (^._.^)ﾉ:** i’m a professional! (ˆ⌣ˆԅ)

 

 

**TheWonWOOingU:** lol

**TheWonWOOingU:** if you say so but even pros need rest

 

**☾Junnie (^._.^)ﾉ:** are you trying to get rid of me (◕︿◕✿)

  

**TheWonWOOingU:** just looking out for you, junnie

 

**☾Junnie (^._.^)ﾉ:** aww (ﾉ≧ڡ≦)

**☾Junnie (^._.^)ﾉ:** but then you should sleep too!

**☾Junnie (^._.^)ﾉ:** we did a lot of walking

 

**TheWonWOOingU:** i still got some work to do. i’ll go once I’m done

 

**☾Junnie (^._.^)ﾉ:** hmph!

**☾Junnie (^._.^)ﾉ:** promise?

 

**TheWonWOOingU:** lol. i promise

 

**☾Junnie (^._.^)ﾉ:** ^_^

 

 

**Sleeping(︶｡︶✽)Angel:** this… is so sweet, i’m getting cavities

 

**GentleMANly:** i think it’s cute. they’re cute

 

**BooTeaful &Sassy:** i can hardly believe what i’m seeing

 

**Foolish_Sunfl❀wer:** awwwwww

 

**Rocket。．:*･°Power:** damn, campus bad boy who?

 

**Snaky∞Kermit:** idk whether to feel shocked or embarrassed

 

**Puppy_Lov’in.Gyu:** both

 

**His♕Majesty_Coups:** i think its nice that wonu is in touch with his softer side

 

**Young_Hurricane:** dude, u r so WHIPPED

 

**TheWonWOOingU:** i can still kick your ass

 

**Young_Hurricane** : leave me alone!

 

**☾Junnie (^._.^)ﾉ**  : Soonyoung! time for bed!

 

Faintly, Junhui hears Soonyoung’s drunken whine coming from the living room, and he idly wonders if he somehow got drunk on top of eating the chocolate. With a sigh, Junhui drops the phone on the bed and heads out to collect his roommate. Whom, by the time he reaches the couch, has laid on the floor with a cushion over his face. Jihoon sits on the couch, busy working on his laptop, while one foot pins the drunkard to the floor at his stomach. Once he sees Junhui, he shoots their flatmate a disappointed look, then helps Junhui carry Soonyoung to his bed. Thankfully, the latter is out of it enough to not cause any trouble beyond muttering threats to an imaginary Wonwoo. 

“Definitely the last time we let him get his hands on the chocolate,” Jihoon concludes. 

Pulling the blanket over the dancer’s chest, Junhui nods. “Definitely.”

The boys say goodnight, and the lights get turned off one by one. Junhui slips under the covers and retrieves his phone, smiling dopily at the chat transcripts, feeling the warm tingles spread throughout his chest when he reads through his short exchanges with Wonwoo. He can feel the blush warming his cheeks, but with the darkness surrounding him, he lets himself smile wider, curling up with the excited butterflies swarming in his belly.

He’s just about to place the phone on the nightstand when a soft chime signals an incoming message. Figuring it’s from their group chat, he unlocks the phone to turn the notification off. But the name on the screen makes him pause, before an even wider grin stretches across his lips. The butterflies are really going crazy now.

 

**Tall Pale & Handsome •‿↼ : **goodnight, kitten

 

**Jun Moon:** goodnight, wonwon 

 

_______________________________

 

“Did you get the last question?” Junhui wonders, rubbing at his eyes in hopes of easing the headache pounding behind his sockets. The throng of students push and shove without much strength, aside from the few unfortunate souls who have to rush to the next exam. 

Navigating out of the immediate area, Jihoon shakes his head. “Nope. Couldn’t even tell you what the question was about, to be honest.”

The two huff and roll their shoulders, releasing the strain imposed from nearly two hours of tense posture. Junhui’s brain is too numb to offer much of a response from a hum as he follows Jihoon down the small path toward the nearest café. A familiar figure already sits at one of the tables outside, and upon hearing their shuffling feet, the blond turns around with a sympathetic smile.

“Should I even ask?” Jeonghan wonders, folding his notebook and replacing it into his bag.

“You can,” Jihoon replies, sitting down across from the senior. “Can’t guarantee you’ll get any coherent answers, though.”

Jeonghan offers another sad smile, squeezing both the lower-classmen’s hands. “I’m sure you did fine. The curve is usually pretty generous, if I remember correctly.”

Defeated, Junhui can only nod as he folds his arms over the table and burrows around the sleeves. “Did we get out early, or is Seokmin running late?”

Jeonghan looks at his watch. “He’s late. Must be a tough one.”

“How was your midterm, Hannie?”

The older shrugs, nose wrinkling in distaste. “Fine, I suppose. There’s nothing very exciting about memorizing bacteria and viruses, though. Do you guys want to go order something while we wait for the rest to show up?” 

Since they’d discovered that most of them would be finished with the first wave of midterms around the same time, they’d agreed to meet up and mallow in despair together for a few minutes, then head off to lunch together. After which, they’d all return to their respective study bubbles, only to come out for the next exams. 

“I am not moving,” Jihoon grumbles, eyes dead as he stares across the courtyard to focus on the line of trees. 

Cracking a smile, Junhui sits up. “I’ll go. Do you want Coke or coffee?”

Jeonghan asks for a cookie, and Jihoon thinks for a second, deliberating between his two true loves. In the end, he chooses, “Coffee. Ask them to make it strong. As black as my soul.”

“So you want almond milk?”

A peel of laughter spills out of Jeonghan’s mouth, almost causing him to choke on his water, all the while Jihoon scowls and halfheartedly swats at the offender. Junhui dodges out of the way, giggling to himself.

“We are brain dead,” Jihoon growls. “How the hell are you still so cheery?”

“You heard Hannie,” he says, “The curve will help. Besides, being positive and cheery is one of my best attributes.”

And because Junhui gets busy searching his bag for change, he doesn’t hear the musician’s muttering under his breath, “Bet your loverboy would disagree.” Once again, Jeonghan is hit by another wave of laughter, which is what makes Junhui snap his head up. He blinks, turning his attention from one boy to the other.

“Huh?”

“Never mind.” Jihoon waves him off. “Please, just go get me my coffee.”

He’s still curious about the exchange, but shrugs as he grabs some bills and pockets the coins, walking through the door to get in line. By the time he has the caffeinated drinks in hand and the cookie, he can see that the group has migrated to the grass lawn, scattering on the low wall to not disturb the other patrons. The other two music majors seem to be in deep conversation about their chemistry exam, while Jisoo splits his warm drink with Jeonghan, the seniors listening and nodding to the rant about unfair test questions.

Without causing a fuss, Junhui takes a seat on the cement wall next to Jihoon and hands him the coffee and Jeonghan the cookie. Jihoon nods in thanks, then proceeds to down the liquid, smiling contently. The older of the two stifles a quiet laugh and sips on his own drink, swinging and bumping the other’s shoulder. When Jihoon doesn’t scowl nor does he display any sign of displeasure, Junhui grins to himself and scoots closer, swinging his foot to and fro, nudging against Jihoon’s white sneaker.

The musician plays along, although only halfheartedly, but Junhui giggles nonetheless, especially when their little battle gradually gets more serious, both sides intent on crushing the opponent. Junhui has the advantage, though, with his legs being longer. Hence Jihoon’s need to play dirty.

“Hey!” Junhui squeaks, dodging from the poke to his side. “No fair! You can’t use my weakness against me.”

Jihoon scoffs, unrelenting. “You use your leg length over me. I say it’s fair.”

“Pfft!” Even as he argues, the giggles keep spilling from his lips, which in turn prompts Jihoon to crack a smile, setting the coffee aside to use his other hand to poke at Junhui’s neck. The attack elicits another squeak and a series of hand swatting and laughter. 

They don’t take a break until Jeonghan’s voice cuts through. “Junnie, when does Wonwoo finish?”

“Hm?” his hand stills on its way to block Jihoon’s attack. He only now notices that Mingyu and Minghao have joined the little gathering at some point. He already knew that Soonyoung would join them at the dining hall, since his class was right next to it. “Oh, yeah, he should be—Oh! There he is!”

The group turns to see Wonwoo coming into view from the corner of the building, messenger back slung across his torso. Mingyu waves him over, and he nods in response, eyes snapping to Junhui’s. And while Junhui might have imagined it, he’s rather certain that he sees the corner of Wonwoo’s mouth lift just a fraction. Warmth spreads and tingles his toes and fingertips as he observes the other boy approaching the group.

Indistinctly, he hears Minghao discussing the essay prompts for his English class with Jisoo. Not that he can process much of what is being said when his attention is solely focused on the way Wonwoo’s hair flutters with the soft breeze, how the locks glisten with a tint of golden when it catches a streak of sunlight. So dazed, Junhui is unable to properly defend himself against Jihoon’s attack.

The surprise and shock of the tickles cause him to jump. His attacker’s delighted cackles ring in his ears as he whips around and pouts, retaliating with purpose. Jihoon blocks him and goes for his neck. He curls up, bumping his shoulder against the other, successfully knocking him off-balance for a few seconds of reprieve. 

“I win!” he declares proudly, while Jihoon rolls his eyes and chuckles.

A soft, and slightly cold, touch on his nape makes Junhui shiver, but he turns around to see Wonwoo standing next to him. The gleeful smile overtakes Junhui immediately, and it’s only after a second that he notices the pinched eyebrows and downward curve of his boyfriend’s mouth. Junhui sobers up instantly, reaching out to take the cold fingers into his grasp.

“What’s wrong? Was the exam that difficult?”

Wonwoo gives him a pointed look, scowl deepening. “No, the test was fine.”

Confused, Junhui arches a brow. “Then why are you so grumpy?”

“I’m fine,” comes the curt reply.

Junhui is taken aback, and he chews on his lip worriedly. While he fidgets, his foot catches onto Jihoon’s, but he doesn’t dislodge it, instead bouncing the shorter’s boy’s calf over his own idly. Because he momentarily checks on the musician’s reaction, he doesn’t notice the annoyance reflected in the side glare Wonwoo throws their way. 

“Well,” Junhui says, turning back to Wonwoo when Jihoon doesn’t seem to mind the bouncing feet. “We’re just waiting for Hansol. He should be out soon, and we can all go grab some food.” He beams up, squeezing the bony fingers in his.

The responding squeeze doesn’t come. But even more surprising is Wonwoo’s reply. “That’s all right. I actually have some things to get done.” The way Wonwoo slips out of his hold makes Junhui frown. “I’ll see you later.”

Then with a general wave toward the group, Wonwoo spins on his heel and departs from the courtyard, leaving Junhui completely baffled (and a little hurt). More than that, though, concerned. He can’t help feeling anxious, wondering if Wonwoo’s mood has anything to do with Bohyuk. Junhui’s tried to reign in his curiosity and refrained from asking Wonwoo about his effort to mend his relationship with his brother, but that didn’t mean that Junhui didn’t burst at the seam from wanting to know if he’s finally called the younger boy yet.

He’s snapped out of his musings by Jeonghan’s loud cackle. He looks over to the senior, only to see him shake his head and tear his gaze away from the direction that Wonwoo had left. The rest of the group also seem to be attempting to keep a straight face, although Seungkwan and Seokmin are failing miserably.

“What?” Junhui feels like Hansol, clueless to what’s happening, and so his voice comes out a little more like a whine.

“Nothing,” Jeonghan chuckles. “It’s just funny seeing the bad boy pouting, barely concealing his jealousy.”

Junhui blinks. “Jealousy?”

With a fond sigh, Seungkwan reaches to pat the older’s cheek. “Ahh… Our Junnie is so oblivious,” he coos, causing the others to chuckle along. 

“Like I keep telling you,” Minghao interjects. “The guy has a weird obsession.” 

“It’s love!” Seokmin interprets, gaining an eye roll from his roommate.

Mingyu considers it for a second, then adds, “You know, I’m surprised he didn’t just whisk Jun away from Jihoon.” 

On the verge of arguing that there’s nothing for Wonwoo to be jealous of, a flash of the night they met filters through his mind. He recalls the way Wonwoo had glared at the boys when they came to find Junhui at the fence, how possessive the action had appeared. And the couple hadn’t even been together for more than a handful of minutes at that point. 

Upon realization, Junhui swallows the retort, musing aloud, “Should I go and explain?” as he takes his phone out to send Wonwoo a quick message.

“Don’t worry too much about it,” Jisoo says. “It’s probably just the added stress of midterm season, too. Makes everyone extra cranky.”  

“Come on, let’s head out,” Seungkwan decides. “We’ll pick up Hansol on the way to the dinning hall.”

Junhui doesn’t have much choice but to accept his friends’ advice. It doesn’t stop him from sending Wonwoo another text, though. 

 

**Jun Moon:**  wonu, are you sure ur ok?

[read √]

  

**Jun Moon:** we’ll be at canyon view if u change ur mind

[read √]

 

_______________________________

 

It’s the Friday after the first round of midterms when Seungkwan finds Junhui in the student lounge. The latter is taking refuge from Soonyoung's antics—his roommate has turned their living room into a makeshift art studio… for whatever reason. He’s covered up most of the furniture with bedsheets, and even spread a large  tarp on the floor, before splattering paint all over a white poster. Junhui had been too afraid of witnessing Soonyoung’s murder at the hands of Jihoon to stick around. 

Junhui is just about to put his phone away and take a nap on one of the couches; however, Seungkwan’s appearance has him pause and focus on the younger as he sits on the floor to be at eye level with Junhui.

“Hey, Kwannie. What’s up?”

“Hi…” the boy smiles sweetly, a little too sweetly. “You’re not doing anything tonight, right?”

“Not that I know of,” Junhui proceeds with caution, making sure there’s no study group or club meeting he’s due to attend. “Why?”

Seungkwan clasps his hands together and closes his eyes. “I need a _huge_ favor. Please, please, please say yes.”

“Er…” Sitting up to cross his legs, Junhui tilts his head. “What kind of favor?”

A sigh. Seungkwan still looks tense as his eyes remain closed and head bowed. “I need help with my sociology homework.”

“Oh!” Well that’s nothing Junhui can’t do. “Sure!” He takes a look around them, noticing that Seungkwan didn’t come with his materials. “Do you want me to come over to your dorm or something?”

The other hesitates, making a face. “Well… Not exactly…” He gives Junhui an imploring look before confessing, “I need you to attend a mixer.”

Junhui blinks. “What?”

Groaning, Seungkwan shifts a little. “It’s a social experiment. Hansol was supposed to be my guinea pig, but he put off his physics quiz in favor of working on his audition for Shining Diamond, and now the idiot is panicking, because the quiz is due tonight at eight. So _pleaseeeeee_ ,” he begs, clasping his hands together once more. “Please, Jun. This is twenty percent of my grade.”

“I’d love to help,” Junhui says slowly, “But when you say ‘mixer’, what does that entail? What am I supposed to do?”

“Nothing at all!”

“Nothing?”

“Well, no. But there’s nothing special you need to do. Just be yourself and go with the flow; I’ll be there to take notes. The other people are my classmates’ friends.” As if sensing his reluctance, Seungkwan adds, “It’s at a nice restaurant. Free food!”

Junhui chuckles, but the doubt still makes his stomach churn. Is attending a mixer considered cheating if he has a boyfriend? Albeit he and Wonwoo hadn’t gotten around to see or talk to each other much lately, but still. He considers telling him, but once he remembers the incident with Jihoon a few days prior, Junhui debates that it’s really not worth getting Wonwoo worked up over it. It’s only a school project, not like he agreed to go on a blind date or anything of the sort. Besides, Seungkwan would be there. He shouldn’t make a big deal of it, especially since Shining Diamond has a show tonight, and it’d be best not to disturb Wonwoo. 

(Junhui did send him a text earlier: _break a leg! but not really ;D._ To which Wonwoo had replied with a smiley face). 

And so in the end, Junhui agrees to help Seungkwan. 

By the time they stop at the apartment for Junhui to change into something more appropriate than hole-y jeans and an oversized hoodie, Soonyoung is cleaning up his painting session. He’s still alive and breathing, so Jihoon must not have come home yet. He and their younger friend chat animatedly over Soonyoung’s newfound interest, while Junhui trades the hoodie for a button-down shirt, and his ripped jeans for a pair without holes. 

“Wait, so you’re going out with Kwannie and Hansol? I thought Wonwoo has a show tonight,” the new amateur artist wonders upon seeing Junhui emerge from their room.

“No, Jun’s doing me a favor,” Seungkwan explains the situation with Hansol. 

The other nods along, then wonders, “How come you didn’t come to me?”

“Sorry,” the blond replies, although there’s more mischief in his tone than regretfulness. “But I needed someone pretty.”

“Hey! Whaaa! I’m—I can be pretty!” Soonyoung sputters, indignant. “I mean, I know I look ridiculous now with all the pain splatters, but I clean up good!”

“Trust me, Hoshi,” Seungkwan shakes his head with feigned sadness, “Even without the splatters you would only be in the bottom tier.”

“Why, you little—!” Huffing, the dancer threatens to throw a pillow at his dongsaeng, but in his attempt to dodge, Seungkwan almost trips over the edge of the tarp, causing both of them to explode in laughter.

Junhui pockets his phone and keys, hiding the tug of his lips as his friends fall into the familiar bickering over the validity of Soonyoung’s visuals in comparison to Seungkwan's. Personally, Junhui thinks they’re both adorable and very handsome. But since no one asks for his opinion, he just watches on with an amused smile.

Heaving a wheeze from laughing too hard, Seungkwan wipes the tears from his eyes. “Okay, we should really get going now.”

“Bring me back some leftovers!”

Junhui chuckles. “Sure. Bye!”

 

The sociology student and his test subject for the evening chatter and laugh along together on the way to their destination. The restaurant is on campus, so they don’t need to rush. It’s a little more upscale than the regular student hangouts, with a pricier menu that includes alcohol. Junhui has only been in there once during the orientation tour, but tonight will be the first time he’ll taste the food and enjoy the ambience. The anticipation and slight nervousness in trying something new makes his inside quiver, but he tightens his hold around Seungkwan’s arm to ground himself. 

Once they enter, Seungkwan tells the hostess his name and mentions the class. The girl smiles and shows them toward the back, where the larger tables are partly concealed by art panels and houseplants. Junhui guesses it’s to cater to larger parties and not disturb the other patrons. The decor is pretty, with rich colors and warm lightning. Soft music drifts through the open space, putting him at ease. The staff are friendly when they catch his gaze in passing, and the pair nod their greetings in turn. It’s a little early for dinner, barely pass six, but already the delicious aroma of spices simmers just below the surface. Peeking toward the kitchen area shows the chef and cooks beginning to work their magic. 

Arriving behind the partition, four other people already seated at the table pause their conversation to glance toward the newcomers. Seungkwan grins and waves, tugging Junhui over with him, since their arms are still linked.

Hellos and introductions are exchanged. Junhui listens to the conversation that quickly takes place, adding a comment here and there when Seungkwan prompts him gently. Mostly, he plays with the fancy ring adorning the rolled up napkin that holds the utensils. The shiny beads are pretty and make tinkling sounds when he flicks them back and forth. He’s so engrossed in his little game, he doesn’t notice the people slowly filing into area, taking seats. 

Not until one of them addresses him.

“Having fun?”

Junhui jolts, head snapping up, a soft “Oh!” falling out of his lips. The boy sitting next to him has vibrant blue hair. Junhui blinks, momentarily unsure how to respond.

His sudden companion chuckles, apologizing quickly. “I didn’t mean to startle you. I’m Kye.”

Noticing the outstretched hand, Junhui shakes it. “It’s okay,” he smiles. “I’m Junhui.”

Kye’s grin brightens as he squeezes once, before finally releasing Junhui’s hand. “So who are you here with?” 

His friend is currently standing with a group of his peers, probably discussing tonight’s activities, Junhui presumes. The third year points him out, adding with a laugh, “I’ve never been part of anything like this, so I hope he doesn’t just abandon me.”

Apparently Kye finds the joke funny, because he chuckles, too. “Not to boast _too_ much, but this isn’t my first rodeo. I won’t mind holding your hand through it.”

The wording is a little strange, but he figures it’s just a figure of speech, so Junhui just shrugs and smiles. “Thanks.”

As they wait for the remaining people to arrive, he learns that Kye is from his year, majoring in psychology and owns a dog. Junhui spends a good ten minutes cooing and giggling at the pictures and videos from Kye’s phone. He asks Junhui about his own interests and classes, and at one point, the topic somehow shifts to Junhui’s hair. 

“Roommate’s idea,” he answers.

Kye nods thoughtfully. “They have good taste.” Then he continues, gaze stroking the strands, “It’s really eye-catching. Usually, you see people with a lighter shade, more of a lilac or pastel hue.”

The unwavering attention makes Junhui squirm, and he mutters, “Between us, I think your hair would be a lot more conspicuous.”

His companion laughs and nods. “Right. Can’t exactly blame my roommate for this, though. All me.”

Wanting to be polite, Junhui remarks, “It looks good, though. Fits you well.”

“Aww!” Kye coos dramatically, bumping their shoulders together. “Thanks, sugarplum.”

At the nickname, Junhui arches a brow. “Sugarplum?”

“Ah, sorry.” Kye averts his eyes, faint blush dusting his cheeks as he rubs at his neck. “That sorta slipped out.” He clears his throat, laughing nervously. “You just kind of remind me of the sugarplum fairy.”

“Oh.” Junhui blinks and considers it for a second. “Well, I like plums.”

Glancing at him, Kye chuckles. “You’re really cute, you know that?”

Now it’s Junhui’s turn to change colors. Thankfully, Seungkwan swoops in to save him from further embarrassment.

“Okay! So now that everyone’s here, let’s get started. Thank you again, to our precious and kind volunteers. We have a few games ready to pass the time and get to know each other a little better. But first, I should sit down,” he laughs, prompting the table to look over to see the staff waiting for take their orders. The nice waiters chuckle, though, so the atmosphere remains friendly.

Once everyone has ordered, Seungkwan and a girl with curly hair stand up to explain the first game. It’s a standard icebreaker, which makes the time pass quickly and fills their little corner with laughter. They’re having fun, and Junhui finds himself relaxing as the minutes and hour tick by. The food is delicious, and he has interesting conversations with the people around him. He does keep an eye on Seungkwan, though, making sure the younger isn’t swept up by the mood and forgets about taking notes.

“Don’t worry, Jun,” Seungkwan whispers. “I’ve got _everything_ up here,” he taps his temple with a smile and nods. “And here, too!” There’s a napkin under his elbow, scribbled with notes that look more like some strange code than words, but he’ll take the blond’s assurance at face value.

Junhui snorts, reaching over to ruffle his hair. “If you say so, Kwannie.” 

Halfway through the meal, Junhui searches the floor to gain one of the waiter’s attention to ask for a water refill. He cranes his neck; the server by the entryway notices him and smiles, walking over. However, something else suddenly sucks all of Junhui’s attention. He stomach drops, and a rush of excitement runs through his body upon seeing the familiar figures making their way into the restaurant.

He stays frozen to the spot, a little dazed at the coincidence, watching Mingyu and Seokmin laughing at something, with Minghao rolling his eyes, but smiling faintly. Because of the plants, he can’t see if Mingyu and Minghao are holding hands or not. He’ll have to make do with the satisfaction that at least Minghao went to the show to see him. His attention is quickly stolen by the boy trailing behind with Seungcheol, though. His heart pounds, and he has to bite down on his lip to keep the dopey grin from overtaking his expression.

It’s obvious they’d just come from their show. Wonwoo looks the very image of the bad boy that Junhui’s first fallen for: dark washed jeans, red shirt cut low enough to show the tattoos adorning his collarbones, with a black leather jacket swung over his shoulders. His hair is mussed, eyes piercing and sharp with the added kohl. Even when he’s just standing there and waits for the group in front to exit the booth, he looks effortlessly captivating. Junhui almost wishes he could grab Seungkwan and move to their friends’ table just so he could spend some time with Wonwoo. But maybe now they could walk back together after both groups finish dinner, he thinks cheerfully. 

“Junhui, do you want anything else?” Kye’s voice makes him jump.

Wonwoo immediately glimpses over. Their gazes lock. Junhui offers a small, sheepish smile, before having to turn to address his neighbor and the waiter about his water. He’s distracted, not seeing Wonwoo’s eyes widening in surprise, then immediately sharpening when the blue haired boy nudges Junhui and laughs. Junhui is too busy thanking the server for the refill to notice the way Wonwoo’s jaw clenches and his mouth setting into a thin line. 

By the time Junhui does look over, an impassiveness has already wiped away all the emotions from his expression. Wonwoo turns away, following after the group to their table. He’s happy to note, though, that Wonwoo's seat is within is line of sight. He sends him a little wave, but Wonwoo doesn’t show any sign of having seen it. _Is he zoning out again?_ he wonders absentmindedly. 

Unfortunately, he doesn’t get much time to ponder the cause, needing to finish up his meal so they can move on with the activities. The empty plates cleared away, dessert and coffee are ordered. While they wait, one of Seungkwan’s classmates walks around the table, asking each guinea pig to pick a folded piece of paper from the hat. Apparently, they’re going to play a game of King. Junhui just hopes it’s nothing too weird, like when Jeonghan made Seokmin and Soonyoung reenact a scene from Romeo & Juliet, and the two ended up changing the balcony scene into a contest to see who can spin the fastest. The result was a broken lamp and lots of crying (both stepped into the broken shards in their dizzy state). 

Junhui peeks at his number, **4** , and folds it back under his palm. He is thankfully spared for the first few rounds, and cheers extra enthusiastically when Seungkwan wins the high-note challenge against two other music majors. His luck soon runs out, though.

“Okay, let’s see…” The MC of the night reaches for the hat to pick two numbers. “Number six and four will play a round of the Pocky game.”

Stomach twisting in anxiety, Junhui glances around the table to see who has the other number. A girl at the end of the table raises her hand, but shakes her head. “I can’t, though. I’m allergic.”

“Aw, you can try the next challenge, then. In the meantime, let’s pick another. Number nine!”

“Woooh!” 

Junhui jolts from the whoop coming from his other side, Kye obviously ecstatic to be playing. 

“So who’s number four?” he asks, glancing around the table, grin too wide, too excited. 

With a resigned sigh, Junhui clears his throat. “I am.”

“Really?” The surprise is evident, but quickly his mouth curves upward, and his eyes turn into slits. “Awesome.”

“Alright!” the MC announces, “Let’s have our beautiful hair couple step over here so we can all be judges.”

Seungkwan throws Junhui a look, a mix between apologetic and encouragement, to which Junhui smiles weakly back, patting his shoulder as he moves to the designated area. Kye is bouncing on his feet as if he’s about to run a race instead of bite into a piece of candy. Idly, Junhui wonders if the male is that easily amused, or if it’s the mood getting to him. Or maybe, Junhui glimpses at the half empty glass of wine on the table, it’s the buzz. No matter the case, Junhui is ready to get through this as objectively as he can. The faster it’s done, the faster he can stop blushing like a tomato.

The two face each other, and the MC pulls out a chocolate stick from the package, gesturing for them to lean closer. It’s fortunate that they’re of similar height, lessening unnecessary bending. Junhui keeps his eyes on the end of the stick, biting onto it. It’s not until the MC starts the countdown that Junhui glances up, and immediately balks at the closeness of Kye’s face to his. His cheeks flare up with heat, and the other boy chuckles.

“Relax, sugarplum,” he manages to say, which has the complete opposite reaction of calming him down.

Junhui swallows thickly, feeling too warm, too awkward. His eyes dart around, attempting to focus on anything else. 

Only to land on the table across from theirs. His group of friends are all staring at him with varying levels of shock. Except for Wonwoo. The rapper is definitely _glaring,_ the intensity so overwhelming, a shiver actually shoots down Junhui’s spine. 

“And go!”

The order cuts through his frazzled mind. Kye moves. _Too close!_ Junhui reacts on instinct, jerking away and breaking the stick. He loses the round, but he’s so relieved, he doesn’t even care. The cheers for Kye and encouragement for him turn into white noise as he shuffles back to his seat and downs the remaining glass of water, grateful for the ice cubes. 

Seungkwan glances at him, and he pats the younger’s arm, reassuring him it’s fine. “Are you sure? You seemed really uncomfortable.”

The concern warms his heart, and he smiles, more genuinely. “Don’t worry about it. You’re not supposed to get involved, remember? Just take notes.”

“Yes, but—”

“Hey, sorry about that,” Kye takes his seat. “I got a little overly excited to move around.”

“It’s fine,” Junhui says quickly, knowing the guy didn’t do it on purpose. Before he can add anything further, his phone buzzes, and he takes it out. His stomach twists when he sees the name flash on screen.

 

**Tall Pale & Handsome •‿↼ : **find an excuse to leave

 

He lifts his gaze to find Wonwoo’s, smiling before replying. He hopes the gesture is enough to convey that he has the situation under control.

  
 

**Jun Moon:** it’s fine

**Jun Moon:** besides, SK needs me. I can’t just leave him! 

 

Across the way, Wonwoo heaves a sigh, eyes flickering to Junhui’s face, clearly not pleased. But no text follows up, so Junhui figures Wonwoo accepts the situation as is.

Junhui is wrong.

A few minutes later, it’s his turn again. They’ve reshuffled the numbers, and yet for some reason, he’s partnered with Kye again. Although to be fair, they started out with four people, but since both of them won against their previous partners, they now have to face each other. He supposes it’s better than having to do it with a complete stranger. At least he’s talked to him for a bit, knows he’s nice. But it only makes it fractionally less awkward when they have to hold each other’s face and stare at each other. The goal is to keep eye contact and not laugh. The first one to blink or laugh loses. In the first round, the girl didn’t last more than a few seconds, getting more flustered than Junhui, making the experience rather amusing, since they both ended with pink cheeks and bright giggles.

Now though, Junhui debates losing on purpose again. He’s positive Kye is leaning in too much, as proven by the fact that his hair brushes over Junhui’s forehead. There is nothing funny about the situation. His heart is thundering in his chest, pumping blood right to his burning cheeks. His stomach twists with the nerves, and his hands are clammy and gross. He can’t figure out how Kye isn’t totally disgusted. 

Various thoughts swirling in his head distract him from Kye approaching further. By the time he registers the fact that the guy’s breath is close enough to fan across his skin, Junhui is tugged backward, almost losing his footing. All the voices and noise around suddenly rush in all at once, and he nearly stumbles from the shock. 

Wonwoo has his upper arm in a vice grip, practically snarling at Kye as he shoves him aside, sending the other boy crashing into the corner of the table behind him. Not even glancing back at the mess, he pulls Junhui out, throwing a quick “Sorry, Kwannie” on his way. Junhui’s brain hasn’t caught up to the present, still trying to compute what is happening, grabbing at the images of a mildly scared and wide-eyed Kye, a flabbergasted Seungkwan, the murmurs coming from the restaurant patrons as he and Wonwoo cross the floor. It’s not until the cooler air hits his burning cheeks that the embarrassment and mortification crash into him.

“Wonwoo!” He yanks on the other’s sleeve, “Wait!”

Unlike what he expects, Wonwoo’s voice is devoid of screaming. It’s low and gravely, barely able to maintain composure as he grits his teeth. “No. We’re going home.”

Junhui digs in his heels, effectively stopping the other in his tracks. “I can’t just leave after that scene you caused! I mean, god, Wonwoo! What were you even thinking?” 

“What was I thinking?” he enunciates, whirling around. Fury burns in his eyes, and Junhui flinches automatically. “What were _you doing_?” he shoots back, chest heaving. “What, did you want to kiss him that badly?”

“What! No!”

“Then what the hell were you doing just standing there, waiting for him?”

Frustration and anger from being misunderstood, from having his integrity called into question, pricks the back of Junhui’s eyes, but he refuses to cry. He balls his hands into fists and shouts back, “It was a game, Wonwoo! It was part of Seungkwan’s experiment, and now it’s all ruined!”

Wonwoo barks out a laugh, rolling his eyes as he runs a hand through his hair. “Jesus _fuck_ , you are so clueless. That prick didn’t care about the damn project. All he wanted was a chance to touch you, and you let him. If I hadn’t intervene, he would have stuck his tongue down your throat.”

Recoiling from the imagery, Junhui huffs. “I had the situation under control. There was no need for you to barge in and make a scene like that! And it doesn’t even matter what his intentions were. I wasn’t going to reciprocate, but now that _this_ ” he waves his arms in the air, “happened, I—we—have go back and apologize!” 

“He’s lucky I didn’t break his fucking face,” Wonwoo mutters, throwing a dark look toward the entrance of the restaurant. “Consider that my apology.”

With a groan, Junhui stomps his foot and tightens his fights as his sides. “You are unbelievable!”

Wonwoo cuts his eyes away and shoves his hands into his pockets. “He should learn not to touch what’s not his.”

“And you should learn to use words instead of your fists!” 

Unable to handle this situation any longer, Junhui spins around and jogs back inside, his thoughts traveling a thousand miles a second, scrambling to find the words to convey his remorse for the ridiculous scene, for ruining everyone’s fun, for potential destroying Seungkwan’s data, and for causing so much disturbance to the restaurant and everyone in it. His fingers shake with anxiety, and his stomach quivers in fear. He doesn’t even know if they’ll let him back inside to do the apologizing. What if Seungkwan is shunned by his peers? What if Seungkwan no longer wants to associate himself with Junhui? The mere thought sends a painful stab to his chest. Biting down on his lip, he pushes open the door.

The hostess glances up. For a second, Junhui holds his breath, head bowed at the ready to be thrown out. However, he hears her gentle voice along with an amused chuckle.

“You don’t have to look so scared, sweetie.” Junhui risks a peek. She’s smiling and waving for him to go in. “It’s hard dating a jealous man.”

His mind his blank. This is not among the various scenarios he’s thought of. So in response, he can only nod and smile in appreciation, bowing low, “I’m really sorry for causing trouble.” 

One hurtle down. 

Passing by the table with the rest of his friends, he receives sympathetic looks. He gives them a sheepish bow, then scurries over to the large table. Seungkwan isn’t seated; he’s pacing back and forth, brows furrowed, muttering under his breath as if arguing with himself about something. He notices Junhui’s arrival first, and he stops. Junhui braces himself for his anger.

What he gets instead is a bone-crushing hug. 

Stunned, he doesn’t wrap his arms around the younger until a few seconds later.

“Thank god you’re okay,” Seungkwan says, arms tightening. “I was so scared that he’d done something to you.” When he pulls away, he pats Junhui’s cheeks. “You are too pretty to have your nose broken.”

Junhui can’t help it. He giggles at the weird and unexpected turn of events. “I’m sorry, Kwannie. I don’t know what else to say, or how to salvage your project. Maybe I could try talking to your professor, explain—”

“Are you kidding?” Seungkwan steps back. “That was the best thing that’s ever happened! Well, no, not exactly,” he amends when he sees Junhui’s confused reaction. “But like I said, it’s a social experiment. I had a front row seat to the craziness that happens when Jeon Wonwoo turns into a bitter mess of jealousy and possessiveness! It was amazing!”

“So… you’re not mad? The experiment wasn’t ruined?”

“No! It was great! I mean, the whole point of the experiment is to watch people’s actions and reactions. That’s why the games were kinda weird,” he whispers, as if revealing a big secret. “Besides,” he swings his arm through Junhui. “How could I ever get mad at my favorite hyung?”

Junhui grins, feeling like the weight of the whole has been lifted off of his shoulders.

Once he’s sure that Seungkwan is okay, he lets the younger guide him back to the group. While Seungkwan told him it wasn’t necessary, Junhui still bows and apologizes sincerely. The group laughs and waves it off, commenting over the fact that Junhui must have his hands full with his boyfriend, and that since nothing was broken or anyone got hurt, it was all water under the bridge.

The only thing that has him gnawing at his lip is his one-on-one with Kye, who thankfully isn’t holding any grudge. “I’m sorry,” Kye says first, a little embarrassed as he rubs at his neck. “The buzz from the wine got me thinking I had a shot with you.”

Junhui doesn’t know how to deal with this. So he sticks to the well-rehearsed script from his head. “I’m sorry, too. If there’s something I can do, please let me know: food, drinks, sweets.”

“Well, I was going to ask for your number, but I doubt he’ll hold off on punching if I did.”

“Um…” Again, what is he supposed to say? “He’s not… usually violent… I’m really sorry.” Junhui bows. 

Kye laughs good-humoredly. “Hey, it’s fine. Relax. I’d ask for compensation if he actually broke something, but since my ego is the only thing that got bruised, we’re good.”

In the end, the evening ends peacefully. For the most part. Junhui and Seungkwan leave together with their friends, and no one brings up the humongous elephant in the room, and Junhui is very thankful. He doesn’t hear from Wonwoo at all throughout the weekend, which is admittedly, a little surreal considering the amount of time they’ve spent chatting and texting over the past couple months. Of course Junhui misses him, but he refuses to be the first one to broach the subject. Is his stubbornness on par with Wonwoo’s? Maybe. But he’s still not going to crack first.

They don't see each other until the following Tuesday for their lit class. As usual, Wonwoo is slumped over the desk, snoring away (counting kittens, as he puts it), now that midterms are over, and the need to cram has ceased for the time being. Junhui stands at the top of the stairs, debating if he should return to his original seat. He probably ends up standing there motionless far longer than normal behavior, but the yearning in his chest refuses to ease up. He misses Wonwoo, but the frustration can’t be ignored, either. 

In the end, he compromises. He still sits next to the rapper, but they don’t exchange any words. The coffee remains firmly on the corner of Junhui’s desk, with neither reaching for it. At the end of the class, they go their separate ways, without so much as a sparring glance.

Sigh, Junhui hitches the straps of his backpack higher, hand rubbing at his tummy. The coffee doesn't help. With a huff and a pout, he marches inside the nearest bakery and orders a whole muffin for himself. He is still mad at Jeon Wonwoo, darn it, and he will not deprive himself of the pastry. However, as he takes the first bite of the delicious and golden brown muffin, instead of the sweet, berry flavor, all he tastes is a bitterness coating the inside of his mouth. The bland pastry suddenly doesn’t hold his interest anymore. Outside of his next class, he breaks it off into small pieces and feeds the birds.

Hansol comes over that afternoon to work on their lab report together. The younger is just as cheerful (and whiny about the report) as usual, and Junhui draws comfort in the routine. They work quietly for about an hour, exchanging occasional comments and looking up answers online when the text proves useless. It’s not until Hansol starts getting restless and requests his snack break that Seungkwan’s project finally gets brought up.

“He got an A, can you believe it?” Hansol shakes his head with genuine amazement. “Makes me almost glad I procrastinated that physics quiz.” He punctuates the answer with his signature lopsided grin, and Junhui chuckles, ruffling his hair as he bites into a chip.

“Don’t procrastinate. That’s bad.”

“Meh, it turned out fine, though!”

“Pure luck. Don’t try for a repeat occurrence.”

The younger shrugs, and Junhui has a suspicion he’ll be using Seungkwan’s last minute change of guinea pig as an excuse to put off more school work. 

“So…” Hansol elongates the vowel, nodding along. “Have you, uh, spoken to Wonwoo since then?”

To say that Junhui is surprised would be an understatement. Not that he didn’t expect his friends to probe (their group chat has been buzzing ever since Reporter Boo gave Jeonghan the details), but he didn’t expect Hansol to be the one asking. And Seungkwan would do the investigation himself, not ask someone else. Which means it’s Hansol’s genuine curiosity.

“Um, not really,” Junhui replies now, avoiding the puzzled gaze. “We just sit together in class.”

“Are you still mad at him?”

Heaving a sigh and blowing it up to his bangs, Junhui plants his cheek on a fist. “Not mad, per se. But I’m not going to forgive him if he doesn’t even show remorse for the way he acted. Ugh…” Just recalling the emotions of that night, Junhui groans and buries his face into his arms. “It was so embarrassing, Hansolie.” 

Laughing, Hansol pats his shoulder. “I’m sure he’ll come around. Mingyu says he’s been moping.”

“Really?”

Hansol laughs again, and Junhui pretends not to know it’s due to the hopeful sound of his voice. 

“Anyway,” the older clears his throat, willing the soft blush to go away. “Let’s talk about something more pleasant. How’s the audition prep going?”

Light immediately flashes in his eyes, and Hansol’s expression brightens ten times more. “It’s good! I’m actually really proud of the lyrics I’ve written.” 

“Aww.” Grinning, he pokes at the cheek puffed out by snacks. “When’s the audition? Soon, right?”

With a nod, Hansol swallows. “Yeah, and actually, I was hoping you could come with me. You know, for support?”

There is no hesitation at all. “Of course! Just tell me when and where, and I will be there for you!” Junhui vows, wrapping his arms around the aspiring artist and hugging him loosely.

Chuckling, a little shy from the enthusiasm, he nods. “It’s tomorrow afternoon, after five, since I told them my last class ends at 4:30. And uh…” Here, he looks away from Junhui, unwilling to meet his gaze as he mumbles, “And the location is, uh..." He coughs. "It’s at their apartment.”

“What?” 

At that moment, Jihoon’s warning echoes in his mind. Sure, Hansol isn’t asking him to rob a bank, but Junhui almost wishes he did. It's one thing to sit next to each other in class. There's people around, and Junhui isn't forced to face Wonwoo. He has the lecture to keep his occupied, and he can imagine Wonwoo to be just another peer sharing the row.

It's a whole different story to go to his apartment. For one thing, it'll be practically impossible to ignore him. The awkwardness alone would be enough to choke Junhui on the spot. And worse than that, what if Wonwoo still doesn't attempt to mend the drift? What if he thinks the entire thing —Junhui in general —is too much trouble and decides it's for the best that they don't get over the stupid fight?

A pang stabs at his chest, and he chews on his lip, stretching at the material of his sleeve. He's not sure he has the courage to face that reality.

The word _no_ is perched on the tip of his tongue, so ready to be let out. However, when Hansol looks at him expectantly, anxiously waiting to see if Junhui will retract his promise, the latter bites the refusal down. He might not have the courage to face his potential confrontation with Wonwoo, but he's even less capable of disappointing Hansol.

With a resigned sigh, he lets his shoulders drop. “Sure, Hansolie. I’ll come with you.”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welp! There goes the drama... Eep!!! 
> 
>  
> 
> \--------------------
> 
> You'd think that after apologizing for updating late so many times in a row, I'd have my lesson. Unfortunately, i am a huge disappointment, so my dear readers have to suffer with me. The shame!!! (つ﹏⊂)
> 
> On a brighter note: Happy Thanksgiving! I am SO SO SO thankful and grateful for all and every one of you. There really wouldn't be any point in me writing if you weren't here to read these silly stories. My day gets brighter with so much more meaning when i hear about how the fics have managed to make you smile. So once again, THANK YOU for everything. Whether you celebrate the holiday or not, wishing you a wonderful weekend! ^_^

**Author's Note:**

> EDIT: Hey guys, i'm not deleting this, so don't worry. Once i reach the end of what i already have written, the updates will come at a slower rate. Thank you for bearing with me!
> 
> Did you make it till the end? You are awesome, you deserve a thousand medals!!!
> 
> HERE'S THE THING: I have about 14K written for this fic so (it's not done), but i need you guys to tell me if I should even post the rest or delete the entire thing from existence. Please let me know, and I promise the next thing I post will be much better quality.
> 
> Thank you so much. (I don't deserve you guys... ╥﹏╥)


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